#but i might go back and fill in some of the blanks at the start next

[creative-frequency]

Lucanis Dellamorte x Reader: Late Nights & Delayed Confessions, pt.3

Summary: There is only one bed. Part 3 of 5. Word count: 980 Notes: (Unresolved) romantic tension, pining, you’re an Antivan Crow, no spoilers for Veilguard → Part 2 → My writing masterlist

“I��ll sleep on the floor,” Lucanis prompted instantly as you stepped inside your room.

“Don’t be silly,” you replied.

“Then where do you suggest I rest? In the closet?” He spread his arms and pointedly looked around.

“Hm, it might be a tight fit, but…”

Lucanis scoffed.

This familiar back and forth brought back remnants of times that were somehow simpler, somehow more filled with hopes and dreams. You had long since abandoned those three notions in everything related to Lucanis Dellamorte.

“There’s enough room for us both,” you continued as nonchalantly as possible. Meanwhile the thought of sharing a bed with him made your pulse quicken.

You both looked at the said bed. It looked even smaller now.

Lucanis inhaled deeply and searched your face for a moment. He probably didn’t find what he was so intent on seeing since he sighed again, clearly vexed, and crossed over the floor to sit on the bed. Without any further ado, he started taking off his cloak, jacket and boots, and lovingly placed three throwing knives, a dagger and a short sword on the bedside table.

You just stood there. Staring. Probably your mouth hanging open with a high probability of a line of drool. So ladylike.

Sure, you had seen him taking off his… stuff and not just in your daydreams. You had seen men undressing, and been an active participant in the activity and what usually ensued after, but witnessing Lucanis go through the motions made your heart lodge in your throat. It felt somehow very wrong and very right.

Suddenly it also felt like decades had passed since the last time you had been alone with him. Memories of flowing wine and a secluded balcony in Treviso surfaced. It had been a hell of a contract and the execution had been flawless. Some visuals of the celebrations afterwards were still hazy and you hadn’t dared to ask Lucanis to clear up the fog.

There was… heat. And heartache. A wine-induced drunken haze? Or maybe something more.

You shook your head to dissipate the tingling sensation. You hadn’t asked Lucanis about that night before and you wouldn’t start that conversation now.

You started taking off your earrings, gaze bouncing between the master assassin and your own motions in the mirror.

“Are you sure the man wasn’t just trying to rob you because you’re walking around in those?” Lucanis met your eyes through the mirror and nodded to the small pile of jewellery on the side table.

“Mm. Maybe,” you ventured softly, “But they were a gift from Illario on last Satinalia, so I wanted to wear them.”

Lucanis looked away, but didn’t comment. That frustrating, perfectly blank slate on his handsome face would be a frightening opponent in Wicked Grace.

You didn’t exactly hurry in preparing – mostly mentally – to bed, and yet the moment still arrived altogether too soon. Lucanis was waiting for you, stalling. You could see he didn’t approve of the idea, but had likely arrived through a very precise, logical line of thought to the conclusion that this couldn’t be helped. For one night, you could sleep standing on your head if need be. Lucanis was probably thinking along the same lines. You needed to be up early and well rested for the journey back to Treviso in the morning. Viago would actually murder you if the Merchant Prince contract wouldn’t be handled by the end of the week.

“I’ll take the door’s side,” you said and embarrassment burned hot because of how squeaky your voice was.

“Right.”

You avoided looking at Lucanis and shuffled to your side of the bed. It was so small. This was a terrible idea.

The mattress dipped behind your back as Lucanis laid down. There was only one blanket and you cursed yourself for not having the foresight to snatch an extra one from Illario’s room.

You lifted the blanket and tossed the other half of it behind you so that Lucanis could have what little comfort it offered. Both of you were mostly dressed, but it seemed disrespectful to hoard it all to yourself.

Lucanis didn’t say anything as he settled the blanket over his side, but you were already feeling the warming effect of sharing. You scooted just an inch backward to narrow the gap between your bodies.

“You’re going to fall off the bed. Come closer,” Lucanis said quietly.

Those two last words rushed the air from your lungs, attached your heart into your throat to prevent inhaling more and threw a match into the barrel of gaatlok inside your chest. Heat rushed through your whole body to chase the escaped air and for a second, breathing ever again seemed impossible.

Lucanis turned slightly to look over his shoulder. You were petrified.

“Fiore?”

Could he not.

“I-I’m fine,” you managed.

He turned back and silence fell.

You really needed to calm down. Treat it as just a job. It was not the first time you were sleeping next to another warm body. You both were reasonable and functional adults. This was a matter of convenience. If Lucanis realised you were doing calming breathing exercises, he didn’t address it.

He shifted a little, tugged at the blanket and let it loosen again. You focused on breathing.

Lucanis scooted backward just like you had done and all of a sudden your back was pressed against his. A backwash of the heat flooded back into you. Forcing your body to relax was suddenly effortless. Like this warmth had been what you were just waiting for in order to settle in for the night. Your breaths were steady. Lucanis’ back was moving subtly in tandem with his breathing.

Now, if only you could have fallen into dreamless sleep.

He had called you ‘Fiore’.

Who had you been kidding, there was absolutely no way you could fall asleep next to Lucanis Dellamorte.

-

→ TBC

[dottyistired]

fiddleford mcgucket and things that go bump in the night

i understand why people like to explore scenarios in art/fic where fiddleford is aware of bill and has face-offs with him while he's in ford's body, or he works with stanley to try and get ford back post-portal incident, but to me personally? nothing beats the canon scenario where he is left entirely in the dark. because it's so horrifying.

you know the principle of horror that the monster is much scarier when it stays in the shadows than when it's revealed, usually towards the end of a story, because until then, it's left to the depths of your imagination to fill in the blanks? fiddleford chooses to not investigate those shadows, and even further enshrouds what he fears in darkness, because he's too scared of what he might uncover. he's the child who refuses to check for the monster under the bed and instead stays awake all night under the covers frozen in terror. that's the appeal of his character to me.

canonically, he doesn't know bill or stan exist. because ford refused to even trust his best friend with the knowledge of his muse, or anything about his past, even the fact that he has a twin. he actively hides childhood photos of him and stan from fiddleford. presumably, in college he kept all their conversations strictly to their interests and passions.

can you blame fiddleford for becoming infatuated with the guy? a talented, bright, yet mysterious individual. he probably longed to slowly break down those walls and gain his trust, learn more about this man who has made an effort to be unknowable. happily offered up stories of his own life back in tennessee, his family and aspirations, and prayed one day ford would do a little of the same. but he respected him too much to pry.

and then, when they reunite, he slowly notices his dear friend acts a little Off sometimes. unnatural. but how well does he really know him anyway? surely he speculates about the life ford is hiding from him, people he may be talking to, mental afflictions he may have, but he can't pin down anything due to how left in the dark he is, and his own fear of asking too many questions and overstepping boundaries. so he can only suspect. ultimately all he knows is there is some sort of evil afoot, and the machine him and ford are building will bring it about. all he has to go off of is his calculations and a vague dread.

until he starts making the choice to forget, which may be a little easier since there's already so much he knows he doesn't know. what's the harm in losing a bit more, especially stuff that is causing him pain?

and so he starts to lose his mind in turn, and he can feel it as it's happening. he knows he can't trust his deteriorating memories. but he can't stop because of the mechanisms of addiction.

and maybe one day, before everything is entirely gone, he's made aware that stanford pines, his ex-friend, has converted his lab into a tourist attraction. not one fiddleford can afford to attend with his increasing reliance on dumpster diving and beggaring to get by, mind you. but perhaps he gets a glance at the proprietor, this man claiming to be stanford pines, and feels that old sense of wrongness in his gut.

he's pretty sure that's ford's face, but something's off about it. and his hands. something's wrong with his hands. didn't ford have something with his hands? fiddleford didn't notice it at first in college until ford pointed it out because he's mighty insecure about it, but he's forgotten what it was. but honestly, how much of his own fragmented memories can he even trust?

he feels a shiver down his spine. perhaps it's best to forget about stanford pines altogether.

[gaywineauntsstuff]

Birthdays

Dicks starts a tradition, for every first birthday one of his loved ones spends with him, he gives them a part of his heart.

Jason: Dick isn't there for Jasons first birthday at the manor because well... he isn't exactly welcome at the manor but he snuck Jason his number weeks in advance to make sure Jay would be at his crappy apartment the day after his birthday. And he gives Jason a collection of poetry his mother had written while they had traveled around the world. He had memorised all of them many years ago but he wanted to give Jason something tangible to connect them together. He might not be related to Bruce, he might not be Jason's brother by law or blood but Jason carries the robin name and Mary Graysons words so he is Dick's brother no matter what Bruce wants to say about it. Some of the poems aren't in English but they all flow beautifully and are written in the same black swirling script. Jason cries real tears and clings to Dick because this isn't something he can say he's had before. When Jason died, Dick took it from Jays room because he didn't allow it to be part of a mausoleum for his brother he wasn't going to let it be part of one for his brother.

After Jason comes back to life, and he's left Gotham he finds that familiar notebook in a safe-house he was sure Nightwing didn't know about with a post-it note on top reading.

I'm so glad you're back little wing

-DG

Tim: Dick and Alfred celebrate Tims birthday alone and Dick knows that Tim is struggling with who he is and his place in the family. Jason needed connection Tim needed purpose. Tim needed something to do to prove his value so on Tim's 13th birthday Dick teaches him the quadruple summersault. he teaches Tim the Full-Twisting Shaposhnikova his mother's favourite move on the bars and the moors. They spend all day practicing together until Tim can do a loose approximation of as many of his parent's signature moves as they can squeeze into one day. And every time Dick sees Tim for the next two months he asks for a spotter and they spend two odd hours practicing the moves. Tim never ends up incorporating the Flying Grayson's moves into his fighting style but he starts to follow Dicks habit of getting up high when he's stressed and working out all his frustration by practicing those moves over and over again until his body is pleasantly sore. Sometimes when Dick is on undercover missions, Tim will do one of the routines to help with the fact he cant reach his brother.

Damian: canonically Dick gave Damian a trapeze bar but that was long into his Robin tenure I believe it was after the Lazarus island debacle. So I think that by the. time Damians 11th birthdays rolls around, Dick and Damian have a pretty solid relationship and the first thing Dick would have given Damian was his father's unfinished sketchbook which contained the original designs for the robin costume. This book is Thick and its not like a modern sketchbook no, John Grayson found this leather bound monstrosity in Egypt and paid pennies for it. Its so dense that its filled with about 3 years of drawings and still has more the half of its pages a yellowed blank canvas. Damian, who is naturally talented at art and was encouraged by Dick to try and find non-vigilante methods of enjoyment has already taken up drawing months prior but this gets him to start practicing with fervour. He tries hard to mimic John Grayson's art style before eventually giving up at trying to create identical pieces and just incorporates various techniques the man used. For Dicks birthday that year he gifts him a portrait of his late parents but unlike the ones he's made for the manor, Dick's parents are in motion, with his John Grayson's grin stolen right off his sons face and Mary Grayson's boisterous laugh as she crashed into her husbands side could be heard in the famous cackle of her son.

now I wanted to do Cass or Steph or (maybe even Babs or Kori if I wanted to pivot from family to romance) but I genuinely the girl who has Mary Graysons wedding ring would

Donna Troy: Dick Gave it to her when they were still wonder girl and boy wonder. They were 14 and it was right after they had started the titans, back when it was a kids club more than a hero organisation. It was accompanied with a whispered confession of his identity, an identity the rest of their team wouldn't learn for another to 2 years. She wears it around her neck with a simple gold chain. She didn't take it off during her wedding or funeral, she was buried in it and came back with its barely there weight a comfort against base of her neck.

[wyvernquill]

I am BEGGING for more anastasia au. I need Dream to realize what Hob has done for him twice over and reckon with the fact he sent Hob away so coldly! So cruelly! I wanna grab him by his scrawny shoulders and give him a good rattling to get that brain working!!

Soooo this was HIGHLY requested, Dream Finding Out, and while I did write up the Bad Ending version of that already over here, now it's time for the proper scene! All 3k words of it. It got long. Hope you enjoy, everyone!

I also set up a masterpost for the AU here, which I've pinned and will update as I post new parts!

(Tag list: @10moonymhrivertam @martybaker @globglobglobglobob @anonymoustitans @sunshines-fabulous-legs @dreamsofapiratelife @malice-kingdom and finally @acedragontype too because of the ask answer included here.)

Dream is given a room.

It is strange and uncomfortable, to live with his siblings, and in such a humble abode. Part of him misses his palace, the endless expanse of the Dreaming, and another part thinks this is far too grand a place for a man who had spent the past few years mostly sleeping rough.

(And yet another part thinks longingly of modest little inns or ship cabins or train compartments, of uncomfortable train station benches barely wide enough for two but now fitting three, his head on Hob's shoulder as they are both dozing off - but he does not pay much heed to that part.

It was a temporary delusion. A lovely dream.

It's over now.)

Still, he is glad for it. In an exhausted, melancholy way, perhaps, but still he is glad. Before… before Murphy, he had thought he would never see any member of his family again (except, perhaps, Death, at the end), would never walk free, would never regain even a fraction of the powers humanity has robbed him of - this is a gift. This little magical refuge-space for what remains of the Endless, the scraps of magic he feels flickering in his ruby, Matthew faithful by his side - it is more than cruel and greedy humans would have wanted him to have, so he is glad.

Though it is not so easy, some days, to remind himself of that.

"Dream?"

"Dear sister." Dream raises his head from a collection of plays he has found in the House's modest library, and gestures to invite Death into the room. "To what do I owe this pleasure?"

"You weren't at dinner, I wanted to check up on you. See if you were alright. And…" Death holds up a plate. "...also to bring you some sandwiches."

"That is kind of you." Dream avoids her gaze. "I merely felt unfit for company tonight. And require no sustenance, in any case."

"Don't you?" Death sets the plate down on the low table next to Dream's armchair, and pulls another up opposite him. "Destiny does, now. Desire too, I think, though of course they don’t like to admit it. Despair feels heat and cold - you've seen her in her new knitwear, haven't you - and Delirium has a human's sense of balance. Very frustrating for her, as I'm sure you can imagine."

Dream glances up, frowning.

"We have been weakened, Dream. Damaged." Death points out, carefully, gently, with a sad smile. "All of us. We are Endless, still, of course, and we will rebuild, recover our realms and tools and powers eventually - but, for now, perhaps for a long while yet, we aren't as we were. New requirements, new struggles. We don't have daily dinners the way we used to have "family dinners" - our brother and sibling need to eat and drink, and we eat with them to show we care and are there for them in their time of need."

"Ah." Dream swallows. "I will… make efforts to attend. From now on."

"Good." Death smiles, approving. "You were missed, Dream. Dearly missed. We are all ever so glad to have you back."

"Even Desire?"

"Especially Desire."

A moment of silence.

Death nudges the plate of sandwiches closer, and Dream takes one, tearing off bits to feed to Matthew on his shoulder - and, when Death raises an eyebrow, to nibble at himself.

(Sharing all his food with his birds was ever Murphy’s habit, and Dream finds it hard to shake, the pattern of feeding Matthew first and foremost.)

"What of you?" He asks, after a tiny bite.

"Hm?" Death blinks.

"What new painfully human need do you suffer from, sister?"

Death grimaces, a little awkwardly.

"...I need to sleep. Every night." She finally admits. "And I was glad for it."

She leans out of her armchair, putting her hand on his knee.

"It made me feel just a little closer to my lost brother."

Dream regards her hand - and then moves his own from the armrest, covering hers with it.

(Murphy used to scoff at Death of the Endless, offering up immortality for the safe return of her brother. Had thought it foolish, to offer so much for a wisp of hope, to potentially give immortal life to someone cruel and undeserving.

He understands better, now, he remembers - Death loves him, and he loves her, and there is nothing else that could possibly matter.)

"Are… are you okay?" Death asks, softly, concern seeping through the gentle lines of her face. "Be honest, now, Dream. Please. I worry, and if there is anything we can help you with-"

“I am well, my sister.” Dream says. And then, for the sake of honesty, “or as well as one can be, under the circumstances.”

Death keeps watching him with something imploring in her gaze, so he continues, haltingly.

“I… I am ill-used to these circumstances, still, which are a great improvement over my time as… my absence, and are yet much worse than what I was accustomed to before.” Dream confesses, slowly. “My people have been greatly diminished, and I grieve for them. I grieve for my home, my realm - as all of us Endless do. I thank you for your concern, sister, but there is no aid you could render me that I do not already receive.”

“I can at least listen and be there.” A last squeeze to his hand, before she leans back into her seat. “And assure you that your people are much better for having you returned to them. They were flocking here even before, and… to be honest, none of us were entirely sure what to do with them.”

“Lucienne has told me as much.” Dream inclines his head in acknowledgement. “And I shall see what can and must be done. More nightmares have survived and returned than dreams, so I must make some anew to restore the balance - or change nightmares to dreams. Gault has already volunteered, and I shall grant her request as soon as I have strength enough in me to attempt it.”

(In the past, he might have refused - but his years as Murphy have taught Dream many things about the self, about change… and about the discomfort of existing as one thing when part of you yearns to be another. He will not change any against their will, as the Magus attempted and half-succeeded to do to Dream - but this is Gault’s earnest wish, and they have all lost so much, must all arrange themselves with these new circumstances.

He should like to gift her a little happiness, where he can.)

“Good. I’m happy for her.” Death smiles. "Speaking of your Major Arcana - Gilbert is somewhat anxious that you're going to unmake him. Or at least I assume as much, from him asking some rather philosophical questions about whether dreams die the same way living things do."

Dream knows, and Dream knows he should. With his powers reduced so, he cannot risk keeping a Dreaming creature close who might be… convinced to scheme against him and his. Fiddler's Green was equally complicit in the plot to trick the Endless, just as guilty as Hob. And yet…

"I cannot find it in my heart to punish him for his transgression." Dream half-sighs, fondly. Dear, foolhearted Gilbert. "It is in his nature to mean well, that is how I made him. He is not greedy and cruel as humans are."

"Humans aren't 'as greedy and cruel as humans are', Dream." Death points out, frowning lightly. "Some are, yes. I can't and won't deny that. Others are kind and generous and loving in ways we Endless can hardly fathom. Would you say all dreams are horrid things designed to frighten only because nightmares exist?"

"That is not the same."

"Isn't it?"

Another moment of quiet.

And then Death says, knowingly, “it’s not about humanity as a whole at all, is it? You’re angry with Hob Gadling in particular.”

Dream tenses at the name.

“Aren’t you?” He shoots back. “It is you he swindled and schemed against.”

“Who is talking of swindling? What schemes?” Death shrugs. “I asked for my brother back. He delivered. Impeccable service is what I’d call that.”

“Pure happenstance.” Dream would have spat out the words, if that sort of behaviour wasn’t so beneath one of the Endless. “He is a man of good fortune, not of sound morals. I despise him for it.”

“I don’t. I won’t.” His sister insists, unwavering. “He protected you, Dream, he saved your life many times over, and without him, I wouldn’t be sitting here now, talking to my little brother, seeing him alive and well. I’m going to be grateful to Hob Gadling until the heat death of the universe, and perhaps, who knows, in whatever comes afterwards, too.”

Dream swallows a scoff.

"Well. I cannot deny that he fought fiercely… to protect his chance at your boon." He mutters bitterly. "That I represented it was but coincidence. Even now, with his assurance that he will eliminate the assassin who has been pursuing us, I am sure he does so only out of self-interest."

"...what," says Death.

"Did he not tell you? There was a man attempting to kill me - I did not recognise him at the time, though I suspect I might recall him now - and Hob Gadling intends to do away with him." Another scoff that Dream cannot suppress, this time. "I should not trust him with it, but he has offered - and with his newfound immortality, he is quite ideal for the task."

"His immorta-" There is something strange and stricken in his sister's face now. "Dream. Do you think- has he not told you?"

It is Dream's turn now, to say "what", a strange sense of foreboding settling in his chest. Death is fixing him with the sort of expression he recalls from accompanying her on her daily business, tender and compassionate and apologetic, on the brink of imparting the worst of news - though there is a private horror in the depth of her eyes.

"Oh, Dream," she whispers, reaching for his hand again. "Dream."

"My sister, what is it that I do not know?" Dream feels himself teeter on the brink of panic, gripping her fingers tightly. "What has Hob Gadling done?"

"He refused the reward, Dream." Death tells him, with grief and condolences echoing in her voice. "He's as mortal as any man."

"No," says Dream.

"No!" he snarls, tearing his hand from Death's, rising so abruptly that Matthew squawks and flutters off his shoulder. "You lie! He would have- he would have said-"

"Lie? I would never lie to you!" Death rises too, anger sparking in her eyes. "I thought you knew! Lucienne said he spoke to you!"

"Not about this!" Dream thunders, pacing back and forth, robe swirling dark and angrily around his form. He has fallen now, right off of the cliff, into an abyss of terror, and feels himself drowning. "Why would he- impossible! He must be- what if he tricked you-!"

Something bounces off of the side of his head. Death has thrown one of the sandwiches at him.

"Give me some credit here!" She snaps. "I'm Death of the bloody Endless, I know if I've given a guy immortal life or not! And I haven't! Because he said he does not deserve a reward for trying to trick us!"

("I would give you another boon," Death had offered, frowning, after Hob's polite and apologetic - and insincere, he had wanted immortality still and was forcefully and reluctantly denying himself - refusal. "Whatever you wish for. You have given me back my brother, I would see you rewarded for it."

"Unfortunately," Hob had sighed, his eyes sad and yearning and wistful, "I want only two things, first and foremost. One is immortality, which I have not earned. And the other is something you cannot give me, kind lady, and without which immortality would not be half as sweet besides." A bitter laugh. "I am sure I needn't say more."

He had not. Death understood.)

Dream blinks at Death once, twice - and then turns away, pressing his bony palms hard against his eyes (they burn and yet leak fluid both at the same time), breaths coming in short gasps.

He does not normally need to breathe, he doesn't think, but he needs it now, the hollow star-cavern of his chest tight and constricted as if it held human lungs, a human heart - which it does not. It cannot. Not anymore.

“Dream-” He hears Death behind him, Matthew’s worried and imploring caw - but all he can think of is wiping Hob Gadling’s precious life’s blood from his injured cheek, and sharing a breath (nearly more) for one slow, tender second. Of strong hands holding him close, of smiles and winks, of that final exchange and the tears in Hob’s eyes.

Farewell forever, indeed! Hob certainly intended it to be, that accursed man, intended to go and die and leave Dream-

“Do it now!” Dream bursts out - and how shameful it is that he loses control of himself so in his frantic desperation, no better than he was as a human - and whirls around to face Death again. “Sister, you must do it now - give him his immortality, he is a fool, he knows not what he rejects! Ignore his foolish protests, he has served you well, has placed himself in great peril for me, give him his reward!”

“I-” Death begins, but Dream does not let her speak. He swears he can feel a heart thudding a panicked beat in his chest, and it hurts.

“My sister, please!” He grasps her hands, his own shaking. “Whoever pursued us is no match for a mortal man, he is throwing his life away, I know it! Do not let him die, do not take him from me-”

“Dream!” Death’s voice is sharp enough to cause him to falter. “There’s nothing I can do.”

Dream wavers, shivers, and Death gentles, though her face remains lined with worry and frustration.

“The reach of my powers isn’t what it once was, I don’t have that level of control over life and death anymore. I could make him immortal if he stood in front of me, but not… not like this.” Dream can tell it isn’t easy for her to admit this, to not be the supportive, steadfast older sister she has been to her siblings through this disaster. “By the Creator, Dream, why couldn’t you have talked all of this out with him sooner!? Now look at the mess we’ve gotten ourselves in!”

“If he stood in front of you? You could shield him then?” Dream repeats, seizing on those words like a cat on an unsuspecting mouse, grasping at them like a lifeline. “I shall bring him before you, then, if that is what it takes.” A breath, shuddering, not as unnecessary as it by all rights ought to be. “Yes, I shall do that. Lucienne!”

He begins pacing again, as Lucienne slips into the room, her eyes flickering only briefly from Death’s harried expression of concern to Dream’s agitation, stopping only briefly at the thrown sandwich now on the floor - before a mask of professionalism slides over her face.

“I am at your service, my Lord.” She produces a quill and book from thin air. “Your orders?”

Ah, Lucienne. He has missed her, even when he didn’t know who or what he was missing, missed her clipped, practical nature, and unwavering support. She will serve him well, in this matter and any other.

(Sometimes, as Murphy, he stole books he liked the look of, hoarded them with vague plans of giving them to… someone or other, he’d never known who.

Those books are long gone, now. Sold, when the hunger and the cold became too much to bear, taken by police constables who’d caught wise of his thievery, or simply lost to the elements. But he knows who they were for, now. At least that.)

“Gather any suitable dream-creatures and tell them they are to find Hob Gadling and bring him here.” Dream instructs her, hoping the sharpness of his voice will disguise the tremor in it. “He cannot have gotten far - concentrate the search on this city, and impress on them that speed is of the utmost importance. Whoever finds him may name their reward, whatever is in my power they may have, I care not - only bring him here.”

A minute uptick of Lucienne’s brows as she notes this down, but she clearly knows better than to question Dream’s sudden change of policy in the matter of Hob Gadling. He will explain it to her - but not now, when time is of the essence.

“And, Lucienne?” Dream calls after her as she is already slipping out of the room again. “Hob is to be brought to me alive, and of sound body and mind. He is to be handled with care.”

“...alive?” She repeats, gaze once more flickering over to Death, brows drawing together. “Pardon me, but I was under the impression that he-”

“He’s not.” Death shakes her head, as grimly as Dream has ever seen her.

“Oh.” Lucienne blinks - and then says “oh!” again, eyes widening as understanding dawns in them. “...I see.”

A curt bow to Dream, to Death - and then she is gone. Dream has every trust that she will organise the search with all due haste and utmost efficiency, particularly now that she has… some inkling, of what has prompted Dream’s sudden concern for Hob Gadling’s person.

“You as well, Matthew.” Dream runs a finger over the raven’s wing. “Go and find him for me. Call on all the birds in the sky, have them aid us in this search.”

Matthew ducks his head, caws his agreement - and with a beat of his wings, passes through the border of this tucked-away in-between space into the human world, leaving nothing but a few feathers behind.

And then it is only Dream and Death.

For a moment, they stand together in silence.

And then Death walks up to him, and wraps him in her arms, wordlessly, a silent reassurance - silent, because they both know that she cannot in good faith promise him that all will be well, that Hob will be safe.

She has no control over it, and neither does Dream.

Dream turns his face into her hair, and understands, now, how she felt for near a decade; waiting, and fearing, and hoping, always hoping, for the safe return of one she loved.

[knoxic]

Cycle of Greed

Azriel x Reader | p1 - p2 - p3 - p4 - p5 - p6

summary: Azriel suspects Elain is his mate, reader is ignored, Rhysand and Cass are protective of reader

wc: 2,3k

warnings: Azriel... self hatred, insecurities

a/n: reader's nickname is Ace but there's no physical descriptions

It started subtly, coming home and not noticing her boyfriend's absence, too tired to notice, waking up to a cold and empty bed, brushing past it thinking Az must have been busy, even though he never mentioned anything. The first time you noticed he wasn't, it hit you like a slap to the face.

A family dinner was scheduled tonight, even though you had dinner with your family all the time, tonight was the only night of the month no one was allowed to miss. Rhysand made sure all of you would be free.

You had woken up early today, before the sun had risen, Azriel not being in bed with you didn't seem weird at all, Az often left the bed before the sun was up, he had trouble sleeping and once he woke it was hard to go back to sleep. After spending some time reading in bed you decided to make breakfast, after washing up you went downstairs, expecting to see containers of food left in the sink but there was none, so either Azriel hadn't eaten when he got home or he didn't come home at all. But again, she brushed it off, he probably had a good reason for it.

After eating breakfast, you went to change into your training clothes, just because it was an off day didn't mean you should skip training. Normally, you used a punching bag to literally beat your stress away but today you weren't even stressed, there wasn't even someone to keep you entertained, so training ended up being just boring.

Again, you came back to an empty home, no signs of your boyfriend. After a few minutes of staring at the walls you decided that perhaps a few hours in Velaris would be exciting, maybe you would visit Feyre's gallery. Walking through the streets is definitely a nice thing, the people passing by know who you are and what you do but still gave you friendly smiles. Watching the children play freely and unbothered made you wonder if, someday, your own children would be doing the same, little Illyrians terrorizing the streets of Velaris.

"Hey! Wasn't expecting you here today." Feyre's voice snapped you out of your daydream.

"Well, I'd rather spend hours looking at your paintings than the blank walls at home." You laughed.

"If that's the case then come with me, I just finished a new one." She slipped her arm through yours and pulled you further into the gallery. Fortunately for your boredom, Feyre had kept you busy the whole day, showing you her new artworks and even making you paint with her.

Hours later you were finally coming home, your feet screamed at you to sit down but you refused to winnow, not wanting to miss out on any new place that might have opened. You were so tired that your mind wasn't anywhere near Azriel, fully focused on resting as soon as you reached home. You only realized you had fallen asleep when the front door banged closed, your boyfriend's scent filling your nose.

"Az?" You sat up rubbing your tense neck, the couch, as comfortable as it was, was not meant for sleeping.

"Yeah, didn't know you were here." He seemed confused and... angry?

"Are you okay?" You slowly made your way towards him but he stepped back, turning towards the stairs.

"Fine, I'll go wash up for dinner, don't follow me." And with that he ran up. You took his anger as the result of his work, figuring that something had probably stressed him out.

Your eyes that were still foggy from sleep had finally cleared, allowing you to notice how dark the living room was, it was already night and you had probably slept for a couple hours. When you went up to bathe, you heard a loud bang from your bedroom. Azriel often isolated himself as to not take his anger out on anyone close to him, so you continued walking towards the guest bedroom, washing up in the adjoined bathroom. Only when you were finished did you make your way to your bedroom, the door was fully closed so you opened it carefully, the bathroom door was left open so Azriel was probably downstairs. You dressed up unhurried, taking the time to choose your clothes, fixing your hair and choosing shoes. When you went down, Azriel was nowhere to be seen, you called out to him but received no response, perhaps Rhys had called him?

'Rhys, is Azriel with you?' You asked, praying he would hear you.

'Yes, he said he thought you wouldn't come." Rhys answered, his voice oddly quiet, without its usual confidence. 'Are you two okay?'

'I– Yes? Well, I think so? Did he say anything?' Not once had it crossed your mind that your relationship was the cause of Azriel's stress, were you stressing him? If so, why didn't he say anything?

'Never mind. Are you coming?' Suddenly you weren't sure if you should, maybe Az had gone alone because he didn't want you there. 'Please come...'

Rhys pleaded, scaring you even more. Rhysand never pleaded.

'I don't know,' you were still standing in the middle of the living room, you could just winnow, but would your boyfriend want that? 'Maybe I should stay home tonight–'

'No. It's family dinner, fuck Azriel's dramatic ass, I don't know what's wrong with him but it's not your fault. You're coming, even if I have to go pick you up myself.'

𓂃

"My office, now." Rhysand's growl seemed to vibrate through his bones.

"Rhys–"

"No! Azriel." He walked out of the room, leaving Azriel to stare at his back, Elain kept gazing at him wide eyed. 'Come with me or I'll come to your girl, your choice.' His mind talons not bothering to make a gentle appearance.

Azriel left without looking back, still feeling Elain's gentle gaze following him. His heartbeat ringed in his ear, time seemed to pass by slowly as he walked the corridors to Rhys' office, darkness consuming the corners of every wall. The doors were left open showing his brother's back facing him, as soon as he entered they banged closed, before he said anything, Cassian winnowed beside him.

"What's wrong?" Cassian looked at them both, his hurried voice echoing through the silent room.

"Azriel was kissing Elain." Rhys turned to look at them both, giving Cassian a nod towards Az, his arms crossed against his chest while he leaned against the desk.

"I didn't–"

"You were going to!" Rhysand spat, making Azriel shut his mouth, he couldn't deny it.

"Wait–" Cassian stepped forward, watching as Az lowered his head, gasping when he realized it was true, "No fucking way! Did Ace break up with you?" Azriel's only response was a deep sigh.

"No, she didn't." Rhys answered for him.

"Brother..." Cassian's hand met Az' shoulder, "Why?" He was pissed but needed to know why Azriel was acting like that.

"I think–"

"Huh, you're not even sure." Rhys scoffed, shaking his head.

"I think Elain is my mate."

"What? Az, that's really serious..." Cass spoke softly, almost unsure. "Are you sure?"

"I– No, but it just makes sense!"

"How, Azriel?" Rhysand yelled, stepping closer to him. "How does it make sense? You've known Ace for centuries, been dating her for 80 years, you live with her! I swear I thought you were going to propose to her soon!" His hand met Azriel's sholder, shaking him. Rhys sighed, dropping his head and shoving Az away before turning back to sit on his chair.

"Az," Cassian started, "Does Ace know?"

"No, I don't know how to tell her." Az muttered the last part.

"You'll have to find a way. I don't know why you think Elain is your mate and not her but she deserves to know. Having a mate doesn't necessarily mean you two should be romantically involved, nor should you be anything at all, but it is clear that you're attracted to Elain and that's just... unacceptable."

"Why?" Azriel said exasperated, "Three brothers for three sisters, it just makes sense!" He yelled,banging his hands on Rhysand's desk.

"Are you insane?" Rhys yelled back, standing up from his chair. "You are in a relationship, Azriel! It doesn't matter if it makes sense, be responsible, she's not just a fling you had, you can't push her aside just because your cock gets hard around a pretty female. Ace is your girlfriend, has been for almost a century, the possibility of another female being your mate should not interfere in your relationship with her, it didn't have to. Elain could end up being just a great friend, or even better, Ace could be your mate..."

"If she was my mate, don't you think it would've snapped by now?" Azriel's question didn't really sound like a question.

"Is that all you heard from everything Rhys said?" Cassian looked incredulous.

"Azriel..." Rhysand's patient was slipping away. "I do not know what to say to make you understand–"

"There's nothing to understand, Elain is my mate and I want to be with her."

"Then fucking break up with Ace first!" Darkness crawling their way around them.

"What the fuck, brother?" Cassian yelled, for the first time that morning. "Didn't you learn anything from Mor leading you on all those centuries? You want to be with Elain? Fine, but break up with your girlfriend first. Just know that there's a lot in line here..." Silence enveloped the three of them, tension sitting heavy on their shoulders.

"Leave, go talk to Ace and fix this shit," Rhysand rubbed his temples, "Don't do to her what has been done to you."

𓂃

Azriel spent a few hours flying above Velaris, trying to forget about what had happened, he didn't know what he did wrong or why Rhysand was so upset. He decided to come back and talk with Elain first, then he'd talk with you, but Rhysand's talons scratched his mind walls as soon as he saw her, telling him to stay away from her until he broke up with you. When he got home he was so upset that you were the only thing keeping him from his possible mate, that when he saw you, he would definitely take his anger out on you. You were so relaxed and he was completely the opposite of that, your eyes puffy from sleep while his were bloodshot from the lack of it.

He couldn't stop the sudden hatred that consumed him at hearing your voice, he wasn't sure if it was directed at you or him, he spend the whole day resenting you while you were here worried about him. He couldn't stand the sound of your comforting voice, not while comparing it to Elain's, your eyes searching for his with so much love and he wondered when was the last time he really stared into them.

So he ignored you, he wasn't sure what he had answered you, his whole body aching with stress that he just wanted some form of release. Release that never came, he thought that by the time he finished bathing he'd feel better, but he didn't. Nothing seemed to work, the warm water did nothing to help soothe his muscles, and no matter how much he scratched, he still felt dirty.

Stepping out of the bathroom only angered him further, your scent still lingered even after hours of leaving the bed. Azriel didn't know what he'd do if you talked to him again, didn't know what he'd tell you, if he lied you would know, and if he didn't... you would be hurt.

𓂃

As soon as your eyes focused on the house, you wanted to winnow back home, but Rhys didn't give you a chance to do so. The front door being yanked open made you tear your eyes from the window, where you could see silhouette with wings, the smile your High Lord greeted you with was comforting. He was loyal to his brothers, if you had done something to upset Azriel, he wouldn't be smiling at you like that.

"You came!" He waved his hand, calling you inside.

"Someone threatened me." He laughed at your attempted joke, no humor filling your voice. As you walked closer to him, he pulled you into a hug, it didn't really seem like it was for you, his chin rested on your shoulder like you weren't almost half his size, it was comforting nonetheless. An exaggerated gasp pulled you away from each other's embrace.

"That's like the worse form of betrayal!" Cassian cried out, his hand that was resting on his chest reached out to push Rhysand away. "We could've had a family hug but you were selfish." His strong arms engulfing you into an embrace, lifting you off the ground, he let out a dramatic groan as if it had taken him so much effort to do so.

"Stop it, you're going to squeeze her." Rhys laughed, tapping his brothers shoulder.

"Jealous." Cassian whispered in your ear, making you giggle.

By the time Cassian set you back down, you had forgotten you were worried, if that was Rhysand's intention when he came to greet you at the door, it had worked. You were pulled inside by the hand, Cass gushing about all the things there were for dinner, his groovy voice muffling out a female giggle. The table was set only a few minutes after Cassian had sat her down, his conversation topics never ending. The first time she saw Azriel, he was coming out of the kitchen, right after Elain.

"She needed help with the dessert." Nesta muttered, her voice filled with something she couldn't exactly place. She couldn't dwell on it further, Azriel was looking at her now, his feet glued to the ground. It was clear he really wasn't expecting her to come.

[sugawhaaa]

ATEEZ REACTION🥧

🍨Creampie first time 🍨

Warnings::SMUT

genre:: creampie (obviously) all of them are missionary :) praise, cursing, squirting (san) oral (san, Wooyoung) overstimulating (Seonghwa, San)

Pairing:: ateez x fem!reader

Ateez headcanons masterlist:: here

A/N:: MY UTERUS IS IN SO MUCH PAIN RN IM LITERALLY CONVUSLING FROM THE WAIST DOWN WHILE TRYING NOT TO VOMIT but yk it's okay bc I always get cramps a week before, during and after my period 🥰 but on a serious note should I see a doctor or...am I just a woman

Taglist:: @haarrrys

🌸Hongjoong🌸

-Argue with me all you want but this man is possessive as hell over you so when you first told him he could cum inside he lost his shit.

-"R-Really?" He would look at you stunned for a moment before smiling. "Okay get naked right now,"

-he'd drag out the sex for so long making sure you both get the best climax of your entire lives. He wants this to be so special.

-when he first gets fully inside you without a condom you can see the lust just fill his eyes.

-he would try to hold off cumming to get you as excited as he can and when he finally gets that one last thrust in, his mind just blanks out.

"Baby I'm gonna cum soon," Hongjoong says softly as he rubs one of your nipples with his thumb. His other hand is holding his body up, his hand right next to your head. "I can't wait to fill you up," he moans softly. "Your gonna be all mine," he says with a little voice crack as he finally thrusts one last time before his cock starts twitching.

Hongjoongs eyes go wide as his mouth hangs open in a perfect O, gasping for air softly. He's never felt your bare pussy clenching around him while he cums. Each layer of your pussy hugging him as he fills you up.

On your end, his cum comes in waves. The first wave was unimaginable. It didn't feel real that's how good it was. The second one felt so warm as it kept going up and up your body. The final wave was almost too much to bear. You felt so full. The fullest you've ever been.

Hongjoong slowly pulls out and watches his cum drip from your pussy. He can't even speak he's that stunned. You lay there, feeling his cum travel up your body. He catches some of the cum dripping out and puts it back into your pussy.

🌸seonghwa🌸

-second guesses reality

-"Are you sure? What if I get pregnant?" He'd be so worried that something might go wrong but you assure him it's safe

-when he first pushes inside you he goes wild. He bites his lips and looks up with a desperate expression, cursing under his breath

-once he gets into it though he can't stop. At all.

-"I'm gonna fill you up right to the top and you're going to take it all."

-He wouldn't just creampie you once, it would be multiple times.

-He'd always try to cum at the same time as you, making your entire body convulse

Seonghwa gently thrusts into you from behind while on top of you. His body is pressed right against your back, his mouth right next to your ear. He whispers all kinds of dirty words as his hips slap against your ass. "That's it, you're gonna take all of my cum," he hisses, his thrusts slowly increasing in speed. His hands gently hold your hands next to your face, buried in the pillow.

Your hair is a knotted mess on the bed from his relentless thrusts and hair tugs. You feel your body being pushed further into the bed as the mattress scoots up closer to the headboard. Your soft muffled moans make Seonghwa grin micheviously. "You're already so full, aren't you? Listen to it," he chuckles as each pound of his cock moves the cum inside you. The squelching and sloshing echoes in the room. "Your such a good girl~"

🌸Yunho🌸

-taken aback by the sudden confidence

-"Alright sure, I guess,"

-on the inside, he's really really excited. Not in like a turned-on way but in a "is this the next step of our relationship!?" Way

-makes it super sexual and does all kinds of little things he knows you love

-would play quiet sensual music in the background and make the lights dim

-bro is definitely eating you out afterwards

"That's a good girl, let go for me," Yunho rubs his thumb over your bottom lip with a smile, his hips following the rhythm of the song playing in the background. His touch was gentle but seductive. "No one's here, it's just me and you. Let it all out baby," he speaks in a soothing voice that makes your body heat up.

You felt yourself submitting to his words, your orgasm creeping closer as you fell into the whirlwind of lust Yunho had been building for you. He grins as he feels you tightening. "Is my baby gonna cum? Let me hear those pretty sounds while you cum," he says in a slightly more possessive and commanding tone. You whimper softly and a rush of satisfaction rolls over Yunho.

This riles him up and his hips fall out of tune with the song, pounding into you faster and harder. You shake and squirm beneath him, your whimpers slurring into moans and you finally feel the long-awaited peak you had been reaching for. Not only did you reach it, but so did Yunho. With one final victorious thrust, he bursts inside you, his cum spurting out into your pretty pocket.

"Good girl, good pretty girl," Yunho praises as he fills you up watching your eyes roll back in pleasure. He caresses the side of your cheek as your body has one final twitch of pleasure. He then pulls out before lowering his head between your legs, softly licking up your mixed pleasure.

🌸Yeosang🌸

-taken aback, like a lot

-"Are you sure? What if something goes wrong?" Another concerned baby >.<

-once he gets inside though, everything changes.

-he would genuinely need a minute to process this unreal feeling. He would rub his hands all over your body while adjusting

-I know no one will agree with me but this man has a slight breeding kink. Not excalty the fact of getting you pregnant but more of just filling you up and claiming you

-loves the way you hug him tightly

-fucking loves the texture of your walls and will roll his hips around to feel every grain of your pussy

Yeosang holds the back of your head gently pushing your forehead against his as he lowers a bit more of his body weight onto you. As he holds your head he entangles his fingers into your messy hair. The sound of his hips slapping against yours echo in the room and you don't even care that there will be bruises there tomorrow. "You're so gorgeous," Yeosang brings his head down to your neck, nuzzling into you as his thrusts become faster.

You arch your back up into him, wrapping your arms around his body as you feel climax fast approaching. You claw at his back, leaving red marks from your nails and Yeosang grins at the stings running down his back. He runs his tongue over your neck before kissing it softly. Yeosang feels your walls gripping onto him as your whimpers become more pathetic.

"I'm gonna cum," you cry out and Yeosang can't hold back his smile. His uses his free hand to gently play with your nipple as his thrusts increase in pace.

"Me too baby, you're doing so good," he speaks in a low soft tone before feeling hot spurts of cum flood your pussy. This alone spurs on your orgasm, your body shaking beneath Yeosang as you moan loudly. Whimpers that sound like cries follow after and Yeosang sighs heavily before wrapping his arms around you. Pulling you closer to him even though you thought it was impossible to be closer.

🌸San🌸

-low key hesitant at first

-he would treat it like normal sex, doing the foreplay you always like, talking to you the same until you start begging for him to be inside you

-as soon as he hears your first plea for him to fill you up he fucking snaps brooo

-this is one of the rare cases San would be rougher than usual

-holds your hand while he cums <3

-he wouldn't stop after both of you came, he would keep going until you explode 💀

-after he's finished he would love the sight of it, seeing your mixed cum slowly dripping down your slit would make his heart flutter

San was basically pushing you into the mattress at this point, all feeling in your legs was gone but he wasn't done, not until you saw stars. He then reaches out to your hand and holds it softly. His grasp was firm but not enough to cause discomfort or pain. You felt his cock twitch before feeling warmth envelop you from the inside out.

Even after your double ground-breaking climaxes, he didn't stop. His thrusts just as hard as ever. Your eyes widen at the feeling. You were so sensitive from your orgasm but San was still buried inside you, hitting your A-Spot every time. Your moans became gasps for air as you felt another climax approaching. This one was different somehow and before you knew it you squirted all down San's thighs, soaking the bed.

San pulls out, accepting the fact that you must be physically drained from all of these orgasms. You lunge forward and wrap your arms around him, laughing softly from the pure bliss. San can't hold back his smile as you laugh. "How was that baby?" He asked softly as he rested you back down on the bed. You lay there breathless and San takes that as a sign that it was good.

He brings his head down between your legs and gently licks up all the access cum that had dripped out during your convulsions.

🌸Mingi🌸

-oddly excited

-"Are you sure? You promise?" Turns to "fuck I've been wanting make you mine for so long"

-he would try to keep it peaceful and intimate but he wouldn't be able to hold himself back

-similar to Yeosang he would need a minute to process your warmth and tightness. Just sitting there basking in the feeling

-another hand holder

-this may sound weird but he wants to see his cum literally dripping out of you onto the floor so if you're okay with it he would encourage you to go on your feet to witness the erotic scene his pictured

"You're so perfect. So fucking perfect," Mingi hisses under his breath as he ruts into you. He abruptly grabs your hips and thrusts into you with reckless abandon, turning your pussy to mush. Your body tightens, fists clenched, jaw latched shut, eyes squinting shut, legs shaking before everything finally comes undone. Your body relaxes and with one or two deep thrusts Mingi unloads inside you.

Mouth hung in a perfect little 0 as he cums. He felt so warm, the coziest you'd ever been. Not to mention he had a lot of cum, just wave after wave filling you up. When he finally emptied he gently lifted you up with ease. He stood next to you as you looked down at your feet and he was right. The sight of his cum dripping down the inner side of your thighs and dripping out onto the floor was oddly erotic.

Mingi rubs your back softly before whispering in your ear. "All mine,"

🌸Wooyoung🌸

-genuinely nervous

-"are you sure? I mean like what if something goes wrong or what if you don't like...it?"

-he'll be hesitant at first but just do something like run your hand over the bulge in his pants and he'll instantly change his mind

-more possessive than you initially thought

-afterward, he'd use little kitten licks to clean you up, no cum can go to waste.

-wants to be as close as possible to you when he cums

-when he does cum though, he needs to watch your facial expressions. It's not a want it's a need.

You and Wooyoung had your limbs tangled up in a lustful mess. One of your legs was over his shoulder, basically wrapped around his neck, your tongues twisting around each other's, one of his hands groping you while the other held yours. You were a desperate mess for him and you were not afraid to admit it. Wooyoung notices your body tightening and tensing, a hint at your impending orgasm. He pulled back from the kiss, looking directly into your eyes.

"That's it, baby, you're doing so good," Wooyoung says before continuing to kiss all down your face to your chest. Your legs suddenly wrap around him and you grab the back of his head.

"Wooyoung!" You cry out as your orgasm crashes over you in waves. Another layer of waves is added but not your own. Wooyoungs cum filled you up in waves, his cock pulsing as he emptied out his passionate lust. Wooyoung pulls out and gently begins to lick up your arousal from between your legs. Gentle little licks. You lay there panting in a pool of pleasure.

🌸Jungho🌸

-surprisingly chill about it

-"Okay, sure. As long as you're certain,"

-he's all Mr. Cool guy until he slides inside you and feels every grain of your texture pussy hugging him

-constant words of praise and worship slip from his lips as he fucks you

-the thought of filling you up and making you his own just drives him crazy.

"You're so tight," Jongho whispers as he pounds into you. "Such a pretty pussy, all for me," he says before kissing your neck, his hips never faltering. You whimper with a nod as your hands subconsciously rise to his hair, gently gripping it to ground yourself. He peppers kisses all over your upper body waiting to feel you approaching your high and soon enough, you do.

"Jongho, I'm gonna cum," you whimper and Jongho can't hold back his smile. His thrusts become erratic and deep, never relenting. Your body arches up into his as you cry out his name in pleasure. He smirks as he thrusts one last time before emptying himself inside you. He leans back as he watches your body twitch and squirm beneath him. "So full," you whimper softly as you feel wave after wave of cum filling you up.

"That's right. So full of my cum," he grins before pulling out, watching the trail of cum drip from your slit and down his tip. "Now you're all mine,"

[kanekisfavoritegf]

PERFECT LOVER: The Life of Nanami Kento the 35 Year Old Virgin

MINORS & BLANK BLOGS DO NOT INTERACT YOU WILL GET BLOCKED

SYNOPSIS: Kento Nanami, a 35-year-old introvert with a tendency to avoid social interactions, has made a conscious decision to steer clear of romantic entanglements. However, everything changes when he meets a new colleague at his birthday party, (Satoru's Idea). From the moment they meet, he is mesmerized, finding himself increasingly unable to resist her magnetic presence. Like taking a bite of forbidden fruit, he becomes ensnared by the allure, delving into a realm of infatuation and finding himself unable to break free. As he delves deeper into this newfound connection, Nanami begins to realize that he craves more than just a fleeting experience and yearns for more than just a fleeting taste of what she embodies.

Table of Contents

WORD COUNT: 1.5K

CHAPTER SIX:

Kento’s bathroom was nice, and it was also nice the last time you sat on the edge of his bathtub, hungover. 

You stared at the drying white patch on the bottom of your dress and fought the urge to break out into uncontrollable laughter. 

It was hilarious, it shouldn’t have been, but it was. This whole situation was starting to dawn on you; Kento Nanami, no matter how tall and how stoic and sneakily flirty he was, was a virgin—a virgin who was trusting you to be the calm and collected one. Running to the bathroom after having him release on you isn’t painting the image of a calm and collected person.

Opting for a calmer approach, you changed out of your dress first and threw on his shirt. It was black and oversized, with the words “Metallica” written in big white letters.

Metallica? He didn’t seem like the type.

When you opened your door, you were half surprised not to see Kento standing at your door waiting to usher you back into the kitchen, but he was nowhere to be seen. Walking down the dimly lit hallway and back into the living room, it was empty, with no sign of the blonde anywhere. You made sure to step over the rug and look over the couch to see Kento setting up the dinner table.

Candles lit and food already set down, Kento walked around the table, fussing over every last detail. It was cute to watch from a distance. You approached slowly and quietly, stopping once you were close enough to watch but far enough not to be detected. He hummed along to some jazz song that played in the background.

“Can I sit down, or should I keep watching you shift the cutlery to the right and then the left again?” You smiled at him, stepping into the warm yellowish candlelight. Its soft scent hugged your body and filled your nose.

“I don’t know…” Kento looked up at you, “I quite like my view right now. Maybe I’ll make you stand here for the rest of the night as I eat.”

“You wouldn’t be so cruel, Mr. Nanami.”

“I just might.”

Kento took your hand and led you to your spot. You were across from each other at the ends of the table. 

“So Metallica?”

“Don’t seem like the type, do I?”

“Not in the slightest.” You laughed.

“Was very antisocial in high school.”

“More so than now?” Kento nodded before continuing,

“It was comical how bad it was. Anyways, my lack of want to socialize, along with wired earphones and a lock on my door, I found solace in music, loud, loud music.

Long story short, he was a big emo kid who swore that his life was not just a phase.”

“Awe. I was a big Orchestra nerd, Cello first chair, Always.”

“Of course you were.”

“I look like an Orchestra kid?”

“No, you look like the type to be perfect at everything.”

“You flatter me, Mr. Nanami.”

“Don’t let it go to your pretty head.”

“You think I am pretty?” you asked, taking another bite of the food, holding back the urge to moan at the taste.

Nanami didn’t answer immediately, taking a slow sip at his wine as he held your stare. 

“You have no idea what I think about you.” You couldn’t look away even if you wanted to; it was like he dared you to break it first to give in. Kento was pulling you in each direction. Did he want you to take the lead, or did he want you to give in? Something in his eyes, a glimmer of defiance. 

Take the lead, it is.

“Eat your food, Kento.” You said, a small smile painted on your face as it was your turn to take a long swig at your drink. The red wine slipped down your throat and warmed your stomach.  

“I think you should do the same, Y/N. I can’t have you drinking on an empty stomach.” You laughed under your breath, taking a bite out of your food, watching as he followed along, only eating when you did.

Soon, nothing was on your plate and an almost empty wine cup.

“Come to the couch and bring the bottle with you, Kento.” Standing up, you didn’t wait to see if he had followed your order; you heard the quiet sound of his steps tracking behind you.

Sitting across from you, Nanami Kento looked on, a proud man. 

“What do you want from me, Mr. Nanami?” Fear tightened its grip on your heart, uncertainty casting a shadow over your thoughts. You were both grown adults; there was no need to beat around the bush. Casual relationships were a familiar territory for you, but they always left someone hurt. Was Kento looking to be serious, or were you just a pawn in his game of manhood? A person must satisfy his desires and boast about them to Satoru. No matter how much you wanted to belive he wasn’t like that, he could be that type. 

“I am a virgin.”

“As we have previously established.”

“I like you, but I am a virgin.” He took a deep breath before continuing. His eyes not on you fully. “I want to please you. I want to give you what others also could. But I— I don’t know how.”

“Kento… We don’t have to jump straight into the sex. It can wait.”

“I don’t want to wait. I want you to teach me.”

“Teach you?” 

“Yes. So tell me what you want, and teach me how to do it. I’ll be good for you; I’ll be so so good if you give me time to learn.”

“You want me to teach you?”

His head nodded rapidly as he inched closer to you, and now on your thigh, ghosting over your damp-clothed cunt.

“Fuck.” You whispered under your breath.

“Is that what you want? Me to fuck you?” His head fell into your neck, panting as his hand pressed against your pussy. 

You shook your heads at his words. You did want him to fuck you, but your head became less and less there as his fingers rubbed you over your panties. 

“No? you don’t want me to fuck you?” He was teasing you. Mocking you.

“Kento.” You warned him as you pressed yourself into his hand more.

“Y/N.” He mirrored.

 “I want you to make me cum.”

“Teach me.” He whispered against your skin. Hands tugging at your panties until they ripped. He discarded the wet fabric on his rug and kept his attention on you. More so, your aching cunt. With one thick finger now inside you, you writhed against him.

“Tell me what to do, Y/N.” He demanded.

“Pump in and out.” He nodded, watching your face as you let yourself be taken by the pleasure. 

“Oh fuck, Kento. More. More Please More now.” You grasped his hair, tugging it back slightly as you moved your hips in time with his digit. 

“Another one?”

“Yes, God Y-Yes.” 

With another finger in you now, your whines and moans became more consistent as he forced them out of you.

“Curl your fingers up. Kento.”

He didn’t even verbally respond. He was too busy moaning at you, moaning as if your pleasure was just as much his as it was yours.

His head was already nuzzled in your neck. He took a long stripe at your jugular as his fingers made a come here motion inside you. 

You were a mess, moaning and panting. It was like he was pulling pleasure from you on a string. His breath felt hot against you, and in between the groans of pleasure he received, grinding into your words so high pitched, so whiney they couldn’t have possibly been from him. But they were.

“Teach me.” A bite to your neck and a groan followed. You could barely breathe, let alone process his words to you.

“I am teaching you.” You slurred through a honeyed tongue. 

“Teach me”, He repeated, licking over his previous bite. “Please, Y/N. Show me how to make you cum,”

“Y-You, are already doing– Fuck!” It was too much; you tried, but the words failed you. Your sentences became nothing but incoherent babbles, 

“I thought you said you wanted me to make you cum,” Kento removed his fingers, taking them to his mouth, “So Teach me, Y/N.”

He raised your hips until your legs sat over his shoulders and mouth hovering outside of your wet entrance. He took a greedy stripe at your cunt; slowly, with so much pressure, a broken sob escaped you. It was a single lick, and he pulled away immediately, not before moaning at your taste.

“Please,” he begged over and over as he continued to force your hips against him.

“Teach me.” He licked again. This time, no moan left you. Despite your mouth being wide open in the shape of an “O”, You didn’t make a single sound. Your body convulsed, and you came all over his chin.

“Teach me,” Kento demanded one last time. And you nodded mindlessly along to his words, and Kento had cum again, just from the sight of you.

Preview...

“Bend over and be a good girl.”

TAG LIST: @marikuchanxo @sukunasstomachtongue @getosgirlfailure @allysunny @tojicvmslut @typefeisu @aiyaaayei @villsophie @sillysillygoofygoose @jinleft @rivversin @haikioo @destinyblue-jjk @ramonathinks @actuallysaiyan @actuallysaiyan @melisuh123 @ureuphoriasworld @jaeminsmilk @rileyglas @bonnieblue0606 @alwaysfreakingout @lovelyiida @ayesayman @dreamgirl5300 @swoozleee @belle-oftheball34 @zeunys @yuzu-ku @aomi04 @y0urpr3ttyp0ck3tpussy @zombriesworld @hazzelle-kento @miinhooo @lucilles-witchery @areyouflying @cosmolight @doingthisjusttoreadnanamihcs

CHAPTER SEVEN: loading...

CLICK HERE FOR A SPECIAL ANNOUNCEMENT!!!

[ragingbookdragon]

Price finds her in the equipment room doing a rather meticulous job of cleaning their weapons, but he also notices that the only set she currently has out, is none other than the side-arm and knives owned by their resident Lieutenant.

“Quite rare to see you here on a Friday night,” he says, taking a seat across from her, grabbing an oiled rag to start cleaning with. “Shouldn’t you be going out with Gaz and Soap for drinks?”

She pauses, looks up and then lowers her gaze back to the firing pin she’s cleaning. “Didn’t feel like going out tonight, Captain.”

“Didn’t feel like it or didn’t feel like seeing ‘you know who?’”

“You know?” She asks and he shrugs.

“It’s my job to know everything that happens within the one-four-one.”

“I thought that was Miss Kate’s job?”

Price smiles. “We share responsibility.” He methodically rubs the rag along the parts of the side-arm, his expression and voice becoming rather calm but she feels the air turn a little stern, if almost a fatherly stern. “You’ve been avoiding him.”

She makes a noise in her throat. “I can’t exactly talk to him. Look what happened last time.”

“He feels bad.”

“I’m sure he does,” she retorts, looking at him. “He really hurt my feelings. What am I supposed to do, tell him it’s okay? That we can move on like he didn’t tell me I’m clingy?” She stops, looks down at her hands. “I sound like a fucking child.”

Price hums. “You actually sound like a person who’s had their feelings hurt and you’re not sure how to proceed.” He dips the rag in a big more oil. “I know it doesn’t equate what he’s said to you, but allow me to fill in some blanks you might have on Simon.”

She cocks a brow. “Okay?”

“Simon was the oldest child of two. Abusive dad, terrified mom. Younger brother used to terrorize him too.” He goes back to cleaning the gun parts. “Nine-eleven had Simon enlisting, came back after a lull, kicked his dad out, got his brother sober and even found himself the proud uncle of a nephew named Joseph.”

“Where are they now?” She asks. “Simon’s from Birmingham, right?”

“He is,” he answers, but his face and voice are void of any hope. “But they’re not anymore.”

She blinks, feels the shift in temperature. “They…moved?” She hopes; he meets her gaze, and she knows instantly. “Oh…I…how did it…”

“I don’t want to divulge Simon’s past without his permission, because it’s also his own choice to tell you what happened, but I can tell you that Simon had a personal vendetta against the man and others who hurt his family. And he took care of it.” Price inhales and exhales. “In doing so…Simon sacrificed himself. He made himself—“

“A Ghost,” she finishes, and he nods.

“Simon, when it comes down to what he truly is beneath his cold stoicism, my dear, is simply a very tired and even more broken-hearted man who believes that if he keeps everything and everyone at a distance, then nothing can hurt him.” Price sets the weapon and rag down. “He likes to think he’s incapable of feeling but don’t let his demeanor or words fool you, Simon feels more deeply for the people he loves more than anyone I’ve ever met.”

Something aches in her chest, rising up to close around her throat as she asks, “A man like him…he can still love?”

He smiles half-heartedly. “I’ve seen the man run back through a burning building to pull Gaz out. I’ve seen him run through gunfire, take a bullet to the thigh and keep going to carry Soap.” He nudges her under the table. “I’ve even seen him pull your ass out of even stickier situations. If we viewed Simon how he wanted us to view him, it’d be easy to call him a heartless bastard. But he isn’t as heartless as he wishes he was.”

“That just shows he’s doing his job as our superior officer,” she counters weakly. “He’s doing it because it’s his duty to get his subordinates out.”

“Does it ever just feel like that?”

“…no.”

Price gazes on her like a father to his daughter with her first heartbreak. “What do you feel right now, puffin?”

She purses her lips, looks down at the various weapons on the table before she admits, “I’m still hurt. His words keep replaying in my mind. I’m clingy and I’m always around.” She fiddles with the fraying hem of the rag. “That I’m a bother.”

“Would it make a difference if I told you that I don’t think such things?”

She shrugs.

Price blinks, reaches up and rubs his chin thoughtfully. “You can be very excitable. Sometimes, I think you let it get the better of you and you often forget that others don’t always have the same personality as you.”

“Excitable is the polite way of saying annoying.”

“If I wanted to say you were annoying, I would’ve. You genuinely are a good and wholesome person, my dear. But you have to remember that everyone has a different level of extroversion. Sometimes, we have to tone it down a bit.” He meets her gaze and she knows his is full of honesty. “Simon doesn’t actually hate you. And he probably feels a tad bit of annoyance, but then again, he always does regardless of who it is, because Simon hates anything that makes noise. But I also know that he feels bad for what he did and said to you—and he wants to make it right.”

She takes in his words. “Do I need to engage him first? Extend some olive branch for peace?”

Price rises from the table and smiles, walks around and pats her shoulder. “Nah, let him come to you.”

“You really think he will?”

“I do. He knows what he’s gotta do and he’ll do it because he knows it’s the right thing to do. But he’ll be skittish. He’s like a newborn deer.” He winks. “Let him mull over how he wants to do it. As for you,” he points at her. “You’ve gotta move on from this. Learn from it. And stop ignoring him and avoiding him like you’re a ten year old. Be a grown-up. Act professional and be polite. I will not let this effect the team any longer than it is. Am I understood?”

She swallows thickly and nods. “Yes, sir, Captain Price. I promise.”

Price smiles and pats her again. “Go on. Soap and Gaz headed to Purecraft.”

“But the Lieutenant—”

“Is in the training room working out,” Price waves her off. “Go. Have some fun. Get some drinks, talk to Tweedledee and Tweedledum.”

As she gets up, she pauses and looks at him. “Captain?”

“Hmm?”

“Thank you.”

Price’s eyes crinkle around the edges. “You’re welcome, Puffin.”

[l4ndonorizz]

painting stream gone wrong / lando norris x reader

pairing: lando norris x reader

song: fred again... - just stand there

summary: what starts as a simple paint job quickly turns into a paint war, a kiss, and a live-streamed moment neither of you expected… especially not in front of thousands of fans

wc: 1.1k

The plan was innocent enough. Lando had convinced you to help him paint an accent wall in his apartment, making it seem like a fun project for the night. But of course, being Lando, he had another idea in mind—he wanted to stream the whole thing for his fans. The chat had been buzzing since the moment the stream started, everyone excited to see what chaos might unfold.

You stood side by side in front of the blank, white wall, paint rollers in hand. Lando had the stream set up at the perfect angle, giving his fans a full view of the soon-to-be colorful masterpiece.

“Alright,” Lando said, dipping his roller into a tray of bright blue paint, his grin already too mischievous for your liking. “Let’s see if we can make something that won’t get us laughed off the internet.”

You laughed, rolling your eyes as you dipped your roller into a soft lavender paint. “I’m not making any promises. You’re the one who thought it’d be fun to do this on stream.”

Lando turned to the camera, addressing the chat with his signature grin. “What do you guys think? Masterpiece or disaster?”

The chat exploded with comments, half of them betting on disaster, while the others rooted for you to somehow pull off a miracle.

You both started out pretty strong. Lando made wide, sweeping strokes across the wall while you filled in smaller areas with pops of lavender and green. The banter between you was light, and the chat seemed to be enjoying the friendly competition as you worked side by side.

But you should’ve known it wouldn’t stay serious for long.

Out of nowhere, you felt a cold splatter of paint hit your arm. Your eyes widened as you looked down at the splotch of blue that now stained your shirt.

“Lando…” you said slowly, turning to face him.

He had the audacity to feign innocence, holding his roller up like a shield. “What? I thought your side needed some color.”

The chat erupted in laughter, emojis flooding the screen as you grabbed your brush and dipped it into the nearest paint tray. “Oh, you’re not getting away with that.”

Before he could dodge, you swiped a streak of green paint across his chest, leaving a long line over his shirt. His mouth dropped open, eyes wide in mock horror.

“Oh, it’s like that, huh?” Lando stepped closer, flicking his roller at you and sending splatters of blue all over your arm.

“Lando!” you shrieked, laughing despite yourself as you backed away. “I’m supposed to look semi-normal after this!”

“Too late,” he grinned, grabbing a paintbrush dripping with pink. “You’re in this now.”

Before you could react, he swiped the brush across your cheek, leaving a bright streak from your temple to your chin. The chat was going wild, the chaos unfolding exactly as they’d hoped.

“That’s it,” you muttered, grabbing your own brush and swiping it across his mouth without hesitation, leaving his lips covered in bright yellow paint. “How do you like that?”

Lando froze, his eyes going wide with surprise as he processed what had just happened. His lips, now covered in yellow, twitched as he fought to hold back laughter. Then, with a gleam in his eye, he stepped closer, closing the space between you.

“Oh, you’re in so much trouble now,” he murmured, his voice low and teasing.

You tried to back away, but your giggles made it impossible to move fast enough. Lando’s hands found your waist, and in one swift move, he swiped his paint-covered fingers across your other cheek, leaving bright streaks of color in their wake. You gasped, playfully shoving him back, but he didn’t let go. Instead, he leaned in closer, his face just inches from yours.

“Lando, don’t—” you started, but before you could finish, he gently pressed his paint-covered lips to your cheek.

Your breath hitched in your throat as the playful energy between you suddenly shifted. You blinked, realizing how close you were, how his warm breath brushed against your skin. His eyes met yours, and for a second, everything else disappeared—the paint, the mess, even the stream.

Without thinking, you reached up and smeared more yellow paint across his cheek, then down to his lips. “How do you like that?”

But before you could pull away, Lando’s grin turned wicked. “Oh, you’re not getting away that easily.”

And then, in a move that caught you completely off guard, he leaned in and kissed you—right there, in the middle of his living room, paint smeared between your lips and his. The kiss was soft at first, hesitant, like he wasn’t sure if this was really happening. But when you didn’t pull away, he deepened it, his hands sliding up to cup your face.

Your heart raced as you kissed him back, the world around you melting away as you got lost in the moment. You’d always had this playful back-and-forth with Lando, but you never imagined it would lead to this—kissing him, covered in paint, in the middle of a live stream.

The sudden realization hit you like a bucket of cold water.

“Lando,” you mumbled against his lips, trying to pull back. “The stream.”

He froze, pulling back just enough to glance at the camera. His face, still smudged with paint, went slack with realization. “Oh. Shit.”

You both turned to the screen, where the chat was exploding with comments, emojis, and what looked like a million laughing faces. The viewers had seen everything. Your face burned as you wiped a hand across your mouth, trying to clean off the paint (and maybe some of the embarrassment).

“Well,” Lando said, his grin returning as he faced the camera, “that escalated quickly.”

You couldn’t help but laugh, despite the situation. “This is all your fault, you know.”

“Oh, I’m fully aware,” he chuckled, wiping paint from his chin. “But come on, you have to admit that was worth it.”

You shot him a playful glare, though you couldn’t hide the smile tugging at your lips. “I guess the wall can wait.”

The chat had gone into overdrive, spamming everything from ���FINALLY” to “THIS IS THE CONTENT WE’VE BEEN WAITING FOR,” and while you were still flustered, you couldn’t deny that the moment had been… well, perfect.

Lando winked at you, still catching his breath. “So… do we keep painting the wall, or do we give the stream what they really want?”

You rolled your eyes, smudging more paint across his face. “We finish the wall, and maybe we’ll figure out what happens next.”

[augustinewrites]

as soon as satoru comes home, you can tell that something’s troubling him.

he greets the three of you quietly, pressing a kiss to the top of your head and telling you to start dinner without him.

when he turns away, you quickly catch his hand. “you haven’t eaten since lunch. just have a little—”

“i’m not hungry,” he excuses quickly, offering you a weak smile. “i’m just going to lie down for a bit.”

he gently pulls his hand from your grasp, heading toward the bedroom without another word.

“something’s wrong with him,” tsumiki murmurs, picking up her chopsticks as you and megumi watch him go.

“he’s just tired,” you assure her. “he’ll be okay.”

you hope they don’t notice the worry behind your easy expression. you know that satoru is strong and that he’s powerful beyond measure, but strength means nothing when you give someone a piece of your heart. the worry just never goes away.

he doesn’t get out of bed for the rest of the evening, and you don’t make him. after dinner’s been cleaned up and the kids are winding down for bed, you tiptoe into the bedroom to check on him.

the lights are off and the curtain is drawn, with satoru’s uniform dropped carelessly onto the floor. you quietly shut the door behind you, and once your eyes adjust to the dark, you see him laying in bed, staring up at the ceiling.

“hey,” you whisper, laying next to him. you scoot closer, pressing a kiss to his shoulder and gently slotting yourself against him. “what’s going on?”

his answer comes quietly, so soft you almost miss it. “some stuff came up when i was talking to yaga today. about…suguru.”

you want him to say more, to elaborate, but the far away look in his eyes tells you that now’s not the time. it also tells you that there’s nothing you can say, because words don’t mean much when you miss someone.

so the two of you lay in silence. a comfortable one, where the need to talk just to fill space isn’t necessary when you’re close to someone.

“i was supposed to take tsumiki out to buy a gift for her friend,” he sighs lolling his head to the side to look at you. “but i…i just need a day.”

“it’s okay,” you nod, tracing mindless patterns across his chest. “i’ll take her.”

“thank you,” he murmurs, taking your hand and placing a kiss on each of your knuckles.

“don’t thank me yet,” you say, tapping the tip of his nose. “because that means you’re staying home with a moody preteen.”

_____

“mom says i’m not supposed to bother you.”

satoru peels one eye open to see megumi leaning over him, a blank look on the kid’s face.

“so what’s wrong with you?”

“nothing,” he grunts, sliding his sunglasses over his eyes to resume his wallowing. “go do your homework or something.”

megumi, naturally, doesn’t listen. instead, he grabs satoru’s ankles, shoving them off the couch so he can sit.

“hey!” he protests, sitting up. “what gives?”

“tsumiki says it’s good to talk about things,” he says matter-of-factly.

satoru shakes his head, blowing out a harsh breath. “not now, alright? i don’t want to talk about it.”

megumi looks over at him with an inquisitive expression, tapping his fingertips against the arm of the couch before tentatively saying,

“mom said you lost someone.”

sometimes he forgets that you and megumi talk.

“kind of,” he answers vaguely.

“did your friend die?”

sometimes he thinks suguru might as well have. “no, he didn’t. he left and…i guess he just doesn’t want to be found.”

megumi leans back into the couch with a sigh. “my dad is like that. he left a long time ago, and i guess he doesn’t want to be found either.”

there’s a lump in satoru’s throat, guilt weighing heavy on his shoulders. he can’t have this conversation. not now, not without tsumiki, and especially not without you.

he clears his throat, leaning forward to ruffle the kid’s hair. “well, i’m here.”

megumi swats at his hand, wrinkling his nose as he tries to fix the mess on his head. “yeah, i know.”

then, in a move that seems to take both of them by surprise, megumi closes the distance between them and wraps him in a hug.

satoru definitely does not tear up.

[admirxation]

彡 𝐨𝐜𝐭𝐨𝐛𝐞𝐫 𝟏𝟏𝐭𝐡 - 𝐜𝐨𝐜𝐤𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐠

♡ 𝐬𝐮𝐦. The reader helps Levi relax, after a ton of paperwork, by doing his favourite thing (wc: 2k )

𝐜𝐰 — afab!reader x Levi Ackerman. 18+ smut mdni, established relationship (husband/wife), porn with little plot, modern au, p in v, and cockwarming (so no full on sex it's just warming) -> you've been warned; continue at our own discretion.

It was another late night for Levi. The pitch dark shrouded the outside of the house, with the sound of the winter wind gushing through the wood panelling around the windows. He was in his study, the dim light of his desk lamp casting a soft glow over his scattered paperwork.

Paperwork. That damn paperwork. The room felt heavy with the scent of ink and paper, the sound of his pen scratching against the papers and the only thing that broke the silence in his study; honestly, it felt like his whole life was just being a corporate machine filling out blanks and signing out contracts, being miserable and stressing himself out just to get that pay-check. It was far later than he had anticipated, but the work never seemed to end as he glanced upon the sea of documents that felt like he wasn’t even making a dent in, with how time ticked away, but the pile just taunted him with that smug pillaring.

You heard—from your shared bedroom—the faint sigh escaping from his mouth as he shifted in his chair, knowing he was stressed and exhausted. It had become routine to wait for him and have your heavy eyes flutter open when he would creep into bed in the A.M., having your heart lurch when his alarm would go off and disturb his much-needed sleep. When making him some tea, you decided to crawl out of the silk satin sheets and let your bare feet pad against the floorboards and tiles. You knew a cup of tea wouldn’t solve all his problems—you weren’t stupid—but it was a way to show you were thinking of him; giving was your love language.

The house was still, the soft murmur of the night outside with a distant hum as the wind swished through the fickle and stiff branches. You stood just outside his office door, a delicate cup of steaming tea resting in your dainty hands as the warmth from the cup rose in small wisps against the bottom of your face. For a moment, you watched him with his brows furrowing and his dark hair falling into his eyes, that soft curve of his lips pressing into a thin line of concentration as he scratched the back of his undercut.

You knocked softly, not to startle him, and entered the room. “Levi,” you said quietly, moving toward him slowly and carefully, the cup of tea nestled in your soft hands. Your heart started to flutter as you watched his face soften when his gaze met yours.

His smile was genuine, with a flicker of warmth melting away the cold concentration that had previously been painted on his features. “You’re still up?” he asks in a voice rough from hours of silence, but concern is also etched in his demeanour as he glances at the cup in your hands.

You watched as he took the cup and placed it on the dark wooden desk. The cup's soft clink against the flat surface filled the room.

“I thought you might need something warm to help you,” you say tenderly as you watch his exhausted face, “you’ve been working so hard… I don’t like seeing you work yourself like this.”

He leaned back in his chair, running his fingers through his hair, a soft chuckle escaping his lips: “I just wanna make sure it’s all perfect before it’s sent off,” he murmured, his gaze lingering on your face. “I work hard for you, after all.”

You felt a warmth rise in your chest, adoring how he always thought of you; even when he was buried under the weight of work, he always said he could endure it if it meant you could be comfortable.

“You don’t have to do everything all at once, Levi, and… I am not your entire responsibility,” you stepped closer with your hand resting gently on the top of his head, your heart jittering as he made his grey glance up at you; he watched as the soft glow of his lamp highlighted your features, feeling warm and a pull he always did when he was with you—his perfect wife.

He reached out a hand, gently wrapping around your wrist and pulling you in closer. “Come here,” he said softly, in a low voice that was warm and inviting. His eyes flickered with something deeper, something needier from his quiet longing and exhaustion.

Without a word, you moved into his arms, letting him pull you down onto his lap and letting his warmth envelop you. You were surrounded by the familiar strength of his arms winding around your waist and grounding you down on his thighs. The papers on his desk remained forgotten now, and the day's weight melted away in the quiet intimacy of the moment. He rested his head on your shoulder, burying himself deeper into the crook of your neck and taking in your scent and a deep inhale before expelling a sigh of contentment.

“You make the day so much better, my love,” he sighed, his arms tightening around you more before he moved his head back and looked at your face, taking in every detail: the slope of your nose, the crinkles by your eyes, and the way your lips curved into a smile. “You’re beautiful, by the way.”

“You say that every day, Levi.”

“What? Am I not allowed to compliment my wife now,” he let out an amused hum from his lips as he looked at you for a few more moments.

You smiled at his comment, a dust of red meeting your cheeks as you felt his hand smooth over the curve of your cheek. “Come here; I haven’t given you much attention today.” You quickly obliged as you saw his eyes flutter shut, mirroring yours as you both leaned in to press your lips into a soft and tender interlock. Your ears filled with the sound of his lips against yours and the sensation of his connection, making the warmth of your cheeks travel further around your body as your fingers trickled up to his hair, snaking up from his neck and feeling the short bursts of hair from his undercut, then the long dark and soft strands that you intertwined your delicate fingers with.

Both of you softly hummed into the kiss, expelling soft and sensual moans as the kiss started to deepen, his hands rubbing against your exposed thighs as you continued to straddle his lap, letting out a short and playful yelp as you felt him grow underneath you.

“Levi,” you giggled out as you rubbed against him to tease him, feeling a jolt within your core as you listened to the slow inhale as he felt your clothed core rub against his tent.

“You’re so beautiful,” he looked into your eyes and took in every feature he had fallen in love with over the years of being with you, “you know… I’d love to be taken care of right now,” he mentioned in that teasing and tantalising tone. Of course, you knew exactly what ‘taking care’ of him meant; after all, the strong man did have his desires that you needed to fulfil.

“Oh, and what do you need, my love.”

“How about you take these off,” he had trailed his hand underneath your nightdress and tucked his fingertips underneath the lace edge, pinging the fabric back and letting it slap against your skin, causing a soft wince of shock.

You smiled at him as you lifted yourself off—momentarily—and dragged the underwear to be discarded on his study’s floor, letting his eyes darken as he watched you come crawling back on his lap.

“Hm, so obedient,” he teased as he started to leave a hot trail of kisses on your neck, making sure to pay attention to your sweet spots, his hands on your hips and rocking you back and forth as your cunt started to warm up in its wet against his tented sweatpants, making you mewl out his name as he started to get you ready for him.

“Mm, Levi, thought I was taking care of you,” you whimpered through your chewed lip caught in the fronts of your teeth.

“You will be; I just have to warm you up first,” he whispered as the tips of his teeth grazed over your neck, making you release a hot and sensual gasp to fill up the dark room with an energetic thrill that was already coursing through both of your bodies.

He let out a grunt when he could finally feel how wet you were underneath him. “Now, shall we do my favourite thing since my sweetheart loves to take care of me,” he teased as he moved a strand out of your face, his warm breath trailing down your neck and onto your collarbones.

“Yeah… I wanna make you feel good.”

“That’s my girl.”

A strawberry red dust flowed over your cheeks, your breath hitching as you watched him bring down his sweatpants, taking in short and sweet gasps as your eyes glanced down and were met with the sight of his hardened cock; just the sight making your already wet pussy twitch and tighten as if in anticipation of his entrance that you were so desperate for.

“You wanna be good and do my favourite thing, hm?”

“Yes, Levi”

“My, you are a good girl tonight.”

You happily obliged, positioning yourself and lining him up with your anticipating hole, hovering before slowly pushing down. However, Levi got a bit impatient and placed his large hands on your waist and slammed you down, filling the room with the slapping sound of your skin against his.

“Ah~” you moaned out as your eyes started to drift upwards, fluttering as your mouth was left agape at the feeling of his fast rut inside your tight and spasming walls getting adjusted to him.

“Shh, shh, you can take it; no need to be dramatic now,” he cooed in your ear as he pushed his hand underneath your dress and rubbed your back, already starting to feel how your blood was running hot all through your body from the raised temperature of your skin; you jumped slightly with a hitch in your breath as you felt his cock twitch inside of your tight core, making your thighs shake beside his as you tried to get accustomed to his large size. You wrapped your arms around his neck, letting him place soft kisses on your neck; all you wanted to do was bounce on his dick, feeling the temptation as you started to lift your knees up before he stopped you.

“Ah, ah, ah, stay right where you are… I wanted my favourite thing… Yours can come tomorrow.” He winded his arms around your waist as the other rubbed your back in comfort, making you squirm and writhe under the sensation and the bubbling need to bounce and feel his deep stokes, a bubbling sensation that wouldn’t be met until later on—you had to play the waiting game.You bit your lip and chewed gently on the glossy texture. You knew why this was Levi’s favourite thing; it made you two feel close, especially after a long day of missing and yearning for you when paperwork was a constant obstacle from all the love he wanted to make with you. You weren’t going to deny it; all you wanted to do was pump up and down and make you both feel good, but this was his time, your time to take care of him while he slaved away working. You, also, couldn’t deny it felt so good to feel his hard cock rest inside your tightening pussy, and the tingling sensation running through your body as his calloused hand ran over your spine and hummed as soft kisses continued to be placed on your neck.

taglist: @wintrrxxo @sleazymac-n-cheesy @localkiss -> check out my pinned post if you want to be added to the taglist, if you want to be deleted just privately message me.

a/n: more levi content hehe, i see you hungry girls who liked the breeding kink post and ugh i love it when people share my levi love, it's a phase that just keeps coming back AH. btw after kinktober i am going for a PHAT slumber, I'll still be around obvi but I won't be writing anything for at least for the first two weeks of november to recover as well as needing to concentrate on my masters work.

[erwinsvow]

rafe meeting shy reader’s parents for the first time

im thinking of right after... ♡

truth be told, you had been really nervous about the whole thing. rafe was a great boyfriend to you, but sometimes a bit too blunt. you worried your parents might not like him as much as you do, that they might not be okay with your new relationship.

and though you now understood that there was no force in the world that could keep you away from him, you still wanted your parents to like him. which, of course, they did. he charmed them easily, bringing a bottle of their favorite red and flowers for your home. he struck up easy conversation with your dad about business and how lovely your house was with your mom.

all in all, perfect. while your parents loaded the dishwasher, you excused the two of you, insisting you needed to give rafe some of his stuff back from upstairs.

when you get him into your bedroom, you close the door, pushing him against it and leaning in for a hot kiss. you wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him down and against you, tongues wet against each other, with your biting down on his lip until he pulls away.

"hey, hey. easy. they're right down there."

"i don't care," you mumble, lovestruck. you pull him in again, mind going completely blank except for a want to keep rafe's lips on yours. he manhandles you a little, pushing away from the door to at least get further into your bedroom.

he only gets you pushed against another wall, legs wrapping themselves around rafe's waist automatically, pressing yourself against him in a way that has him concerned.

"woah, woah, hold on, kid. we're going back down for dessert, can't have it obvious-"

"who cares about dessert?" you protest, and you look up at him with your pretty eyes filled with lust, chest heaving in the pretty sundress he'd been admiring all night. you're flushed and warm, overcome with a wanting for rafe that needed to be satisfied now, though you're even a little confused yourself where it stemmed from.

"really? you wanna fuck with your parents downstairs?"

"is that so wrong? we do it at tannyhill.."

"no one's around at tannyhill. c'mon, calm down. i don't need them hatin' me already. they just started likin' me."

you sigh a breath of protest, shoulders falling, but you don't complain. you still stalk back up, close to your boyfriend, putting your hands on his shoulders, looking up with your swollen lips and fluttery eyes.

"i knew they'd like you. y'know, i like you too.. a lot."

"yeah, kid. i can tell."

"i jus' wanna show you how much i like you, s'all." your words are becoming a little slurred, eyes a little dazed, lips a little pouty. you lean up for another kiss, gentle this time, moaning into his mouth while your nails grip rafe's arm through his pressed button up.

"c'mon baby. you're gonna get me in trouble," rafe says when he pulls away, resting his forehead against yours. he can make out the sound of the faucet shutting, the fridge opening to retrieve the cake you'd made earlier.

"not if we're quick, right?" you rake your nails—freshly done today, pink and pretty just how he likes—against rafe's chest. "and i can be quiet... right?" you lean in again, pressing a hot kiss to rafe's jaw. "no one has to know-"

in hindsight, it was a mistake letting himself get swayed by you like this. he blamed your boldness this time, usually too shy to ask for what you want, just relying on rafe to give it to you. but he's still a man, one madly in love—at that—and he doesn't think he can resist you if he tries.

rafe ends up in a position he's not used to—lying on his back on your soft, sweet-smelling sheets, against a pillow and next to a stuffed teddy. you're on top, your dress hiked up and panties yanked to the side. the top is pushed down just enough to show him your tits, one of his ringed fingers teasing your nipple while the other guides your hips.

you're close already, he can tell, the way your entire body trembles, how you're biting your lip so hard it's about to bleed to keep yourself silent. besides for the sound of his skin slapping against yours and your whimpers, the room is silent. it's not gonna take much, but he decides to give it to you anyways.

his grip tightens, thrusting up and fucking into you hard, controlling the pace. your hands which had been lying flat on his chest to hold yourself up, were abandoned to cover your mouth instead, his eyes glued to where he was sliding inside of you.

"c'mon, kid. fuck. you wanted it, didn't ya? gotta be quick, then. shit." you clench around his dick, a strangled moan escaping your lips. he has half a mind to push your face into the mattress and fuck you from behind, but it's gonna have to wait.

you're getting close. he's getting close. another second of rafe fucking you like this, with you on top but still having no control, hitting that spot inside you that makes you see stars and have your eyes rolling back. you're so close you can taste it, gushing around his dick and knowing he's gonna fill you up with the way he goes faster, until you hear a knock on the door.

"honey? rafe? dessert's ready."

"god! m'coming!"

ten minutes later, you're eating chocolate cake with rafe's cum spilling out of you, probably dripping down your thigh and making a mess. his hair is a mess, your lips swollen. you catch his eye while he's shoving cake in his mouth and neither of you can hold back your laughter.

your parents haven't noticed anything yet, but you can't make eye contact with them for a week after.

but it was definitely worth it.

[gotham-daydreams]

How would it have gone differently if Reader didn't try to be an "overachiever" and instead just stayed quiet and didn't interact with anyone besides Alfred until they left? Their room they left being mostly blank, with only the music journals? Giving up on trying to get their attention.

I think what's so funny about this ask, to me, is that I already have a concept like this written down (along with 3 others since the current reader I'm writing for the "Not [ ]" series is one of them but with a few missing details), so this'll be fun!

I guess it generally goes how you'd expect? Which is different for the most part, but the reader's perspective on what's happening is also different.

Granted, I would like to point out that, at least for this particular concept and the idea I have for it of how this would go, does have more stuff going on pre-Batfam that do affect how they perceive what's happening, and that's what makes things interesting in my opinion. Because someone can be naturally shy or just overall more reserved either out of nature or because they feel a certain way, but still feel bad about being neglected and, despite their lack of effort, feel that pain just as much as someone who's tried. Which is valid! Besides, someone's definition of 'trying' can vary as well.

Everyone should have a chance to have a family, and form some kind of connection with people. Just because you aren't going above and beyond for one person, doesn't mean you're undeserving of certain things. Especially not a chance to have a family, or feel like you have one. That's what I think anyway.

Nevertheless, back to the reader!

From the original concept, I will be tweaking a few things to fit the ask, but the same general outcome remains! Though again, the reader's perspective on things is a tad different. But how about this- I'll show two versions of the reader.

One that's quiet and more reserved because they gave up much earlier, or just generally hopeless really early on because maybe they felt as if anything they'd do just wouldn't be enough, who'll be accurately named Quiet!Reader. With the other being more closely related to the concept I wrote for such an idea, that we'll refer to as Waiting!Reader.

Quiet!Reader would change up things quite a bit! I won't lie!

They might already have bad self-esteem that's quick to develop at the start of things, which is something to note as that doesn't get better with time. They grow more cold and distant from the family at a quicker pace both from personal and external reasons.

Put simply, they don't feel good enough, and even if they did- anything they could do to get the Batfam's attention would never be enough in their eyes. To which, they see very early on when they try to engage and do some things with the family, only to be turned down. What doesn't help is when Quiet!Reader sees Damian get adopted and almost immediately showered with love, (compared to them) and that really cements some ideas that were already developing in their head about the family.

When Damian comes into the picture, they feel replaced. Seeing him as someone to fill in the 'youngest Wayne' role instead of them, so that Bruce and the others actually have someone to acknowledge for such a title. Just someone else to further take away the little they had.

So, they further step out of the way, glaring at the Batfam with tired eyes before that eventually stops too. Envy clawing at their heart, hatred being sent through waves of pain all throughout their body. Hurt unmatched. Yet they still remain invisible. Quiet as ever. Unnoticed. Everything they ever felt dies down, and forms a cold numbness that they begin to associate with the family.

Maybe through that, they feel closer to the family in some twisted way. Now just as cold as them. Just as talkative, and just as engaging. Almost mirroring them, but they're honest about how they feel. Honest about what they think, and therefore better. At least when compared to the Batfam- and to them, even if it wasn't a high bar to reach anyway, at least it counts for something.

It was never Damian's fault, or really about Damian at all. It could've been anyone else and Quiet!Reader would've still reacted the same way, they know that. Though just seeing the Batfam show love and care to him and not them just makes them feel... worse.

Clearly they're capable of love, and can notice new additions to the family (to which they may have mostly believed that the Batfam's neglect was just something the family did for whatever reason, and thought that them being the youngest had something to do with it for a while) and that breaks the reader. It doesn't hurt, not as much as it would've, maybe, but whatever hurt is there dies down quickly as Quiet!Reader, well, quietly accepts their fate.

The Batfam clearly wants nothing to do with them, so why should they try to do all of these things for them? It's simple, they shouldn't. So they don't. Quiet!Reader gives up, and continues to live their life without them.

The Manor just becomes a place they sleep in, and nothing else. It isn't anything close to a home, and not even Alfred can help with that.

It's because of that little fact, however, that Quiet!Reader leaves much sooner than the reader in the "Not [ ]" series. Maybe once they get a friend they can trust, they essentially end up living with said friend, hence why their room remains so empty. The notebooks they even keep in the room they have in the Manor is from when they were way younger, instead of just being from a few months ago or so. We're talking years since Quiet!Reader has touched those things now.

Maybe they do 'officially' leave a month or so before they usually would as an overachiever in the "Not [ ]" series, having only bothered to return so often before because of Alfred. Though even then, they'd forget to return most nights- only being reminded to even try and go back once Alfred would personally call them, and ask them where they were.

However now, after a while of just the time between them basically living with their friend and sleeping at the manor, they stop returning altogether. Though this time around they instead personally go to Alfred to say they're goodbyes. Not explaining much, but just saying that while they might still try to come and visit him sometimes, they don't live in the Manor anymore. Alfred already knows this, and the embrace they share fully hammers in that fact.

Yet when Quiet!Reader turns away, and leaves the Manor for good- even through the front door at that. Alfred can't help but just... miss them already.

You see, while Quiet!Reader is indeed quieter and more reserved, especially towards the Batfam, with Alfred really being the only exception, they still made music.

Maybe they didn't have as many concerts or physical, grand, live performances compared to the reader in the "Not [ ]" series, they not only started earlier, but may have actually started out on a social platform such a youtube. They really started out small, but were able to find and start their passion much earlier!

Most of what they played was when they were in the Manor, but slowly they started to get involved with things music related outside of the Manor and in Gotham- and from there were able to build themselves up even more. Hell, I'd even say that Quiet!Reader is a little more well-known and popular than the reader in the "Not [ ]" series because of the amount of extra time they dedicated to their passion.

So basically, Alfred this time around has more recordings and such of Quiet!Reader actually doing something they love than with the one in the series. However! Funnily enough, they're gone for a shorter amount of time despite having left earlier than normal.

Alfred is just, extra fed up with this nonsense, and so pulls his tricks more early on, but also make them hit harder.

He doesn't clean Quiet!Reader's room to show how long they've been gone, adding onto the emptiness and almost abandoned feeling the room itself gives off because of how bare and empty it is. They're music haunts the halls, subtle, sure, but still noticeable- especially to those who are hyper aware all the time. Pictures of Quiet!Reader and Alfred begin to be hung up, and if he can manage- some with Quiet!Reader and their friends during important parts of their life.

No one is safe from the guilt and anguish Alfred seeks to cause to not only have the Batfam look for you, but most importantly, to finally notice you.

Let's just say, things work out a little too well.

---

As for Waiting!Reader? Oh man, I've been wanting to rant about them for a while!

Unlike the reader in the "Not [ ]" series and Quiet!Reader, Waiting!Reader had some semblance of a life before getting adopted into the Batfam. Though the idea and character themself isn't musically inclined/involved in music, or even all that interested in music for that matter- for the sake of this ask, lets say they are!

I won't dabble too much into the life Waiting!Reader had before the Batfam, as if I do end up writing them I'd also like to keep some details vague (for the sake of leaving it up to interpretation and everything), but just know that during the time they were still with their original family, they were essentially taught that they should 'wait their turn', and eventually their parents would spend time with them and care for them. Hence the little name I've given them.

So! When they get to the Manor and are officially adopted, only to be neglected and ignored during their first few attempts- because of their young age, they immediately think "oh! they're just like mom and dad!" So they 'wait' for 'their turn', believing that eventually, should they wait long enough, they'll be rewarded with bonding and such from the Batfam just as they were with their previous parents.

This mindset changes what they do as well, as Waiting!Reader even goes out of their way to not bother anyone, or "get in the way" of whatever they could be doing. Waiting!Reader treats the situation so much like their previous home life, that sometimes they might even forget that the Batfam are completely different people from their parents. The only real difference that they can think of is that they're not acknowledged at all and it seems like their 'turn' never comes. Though for a while that doesn't get them down. The Batfam is busy like they're parents were! Waiting!Reader is sure that when things die down then they'll have their time.

... Hopefully.

I can imagine that part of the reason why Waiting!Reader holds on to hope for so long is because, again, their own parents constantly reassured them that they would have their time eventually. That if they behaved, and stayed out of the way, then they would go somewhere fun with their parents and essentially be rewarded for their efforts. They were conditioned to wait, to be patient, and just comply until those around them decided to actually take care of them, and spend time with them.

Of course, as they grow up the reality of the situation does hit them eventually, but during that time they do try.

Waiting!Reader helps Alfred around the house, and so they mostly bond over doing chores, among other things. They are also more mindful, and try to keep the amount of noise they back down— so they actually don't play at the Manor all that often, and instead play literally anywhere else. If and when they do play outside, around the area of the Manor like in the gardens or something, they make sure no one is around before even thinking of playing.

Alfred does help them break a few of their habits that they got while living with their parents, but the one thing he can't seem to 'fix' is how absolutely quiet Waiting!Reader is when they walk around. Which, as on can imagine, doesn't exactly help in a situation where the whole family, except for the butler, is neglecting you.

The amount of times Waiting!Reader has caught Alfred off guard is more then you'd think for someone that works with the Dark Knight, and his various sidekicks and such, over the years. Which does say something, sure, but it's also funny!

Regardless, similar to Quiet!Reader, Waiting!Reader is able to start their musical career earlier than normal, and thuse becomes a little more popular than they would originally. However, they're more known for their live performances and giving back to the community. Seemingly just like Bruce as they attend charity event after charity event, and try to do good by the people.

Waiting!Reader also does genuinely try to become a vigilante as well, but they do so in a way where they only take care of the smaller/medium guys, and leave the bigger ones to the rest of the Batfam. This is because they want to remove possible distractions for their family, and while they would try to take on "bigger guys", they don't think they're skilled enough or experienced enough to even think about it. So they don't even try. (They also don't have the same theme as the Batfam- since they don't want to 'ruin' their reputation with what they're doing or something. Which does hell them further detach themself from the family later on.)

I'd say that with Waiting!Reader, the difference between them and the Batfam is more clear to them? Like, to them, the Batfam are just so good at what they do that they have no hope of reaching them. So instead of trying to reach for them, they just do their own thing and try to help in their own way.

Because Waiting!Reader takes care of smaller guys, they are kind of closer to Waiting!Reader as a vigilante.

The best way I can put it is that while the community trusts Batman and the members of the Batfam to save their city, they trust Waiting!Reader to save their homes.

So basically- Batfam is the bigger picture while Waiting!Reader focuses on the smaller picture.

Nevertheless! Also like Quiet!Reader, Waiting!Reader actually leaves earlier. Except when they leave, they leave.

Waiting!Reader straight up leaves Gotham City to attend the college that they want to go to, in an area that has more opportunity for them, that isn't close to where the Batfam lives or patrols.

So they not only leave earlier, but it also takes the Batfam longer to find them. Especially because Waiting!Reader does still do some things in Gotham, they just don't live there anymore.

I feel like out of all three readers, Waiting!Reader definitely feels like the kind of person that someone would assume is some kind of "Phantom of the Wayne Manor," y'know?

So Alfred definitely tries to make the Batfam feel bad like he does with Quiet!Reader. Except how anyone in the Batfam is reminded that Waiting!Reader even exists, and that they've been gone for a while now is through a letter that is accidentally sent to the Wayne Manor from one of Waiting!Reader's fans. From there, some research does start and the more the Batfam learns, the more they want to go and find the reader- you know the deal.

I hope this answered your question even if I really did ramble on this time- if you'd like me to clarify anything or go into more detail on a specific part, feel free to send in an ask!

[achilles-rage]

NSFW Alphabet

word count: 2.0k

A/N: hi besties<333 this is my first time writing so pls don’t absolutely tear me to shreds (just a little bit is acceptable though). i’m planning on making a SFW alphabet for buck soon as well but some of the letters had me drawing a blank lol. also, although there’s not really much mention of it, this is with a plus size reader in mind. as a plus size girly myself, it sucks to read x reader stories and knowing in the back of your mind that it wasn’t written with your body type in mind (although there’s nothing wrong with writers that do that of course). i just thought i would add to the plus size reader community because there are barely any buck fics and i believe in my heart that he loves plus size women. anyway, enjoy <3

warnings: smut (obviously lol), no use of y/n, fem!reader, plus size!reader, race inclusive!reader

MDNI- 18+ Only

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

When y’all finish he’ll wait a few minutes before pulling out, head buried in your neck as his breathing gets back to normal. He’ll kiss your neck and tell you how good you were for him, before finally getting up to clean you up. After that he wants to lay with you and talk, just enjoying each other’s company, maybe y’all will make some food if you feel like it.

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

His: Probably his arms. He’s worked hard to be as fit as he is and he enjoys using his arms to move you/lift you while you’re having sex. He takes pride in his appearance, he knows he’s hot, but it’s an added bonus that he can lift you up and do whatever he (or you) wants.

Yours: I am of the firm belief that Evan Buckley is a thigh man. He loves how they feel in his hands, he loves how they look when you straddle him, he can’t get enough. He loves to see them jiggle when you move, or when he playfully smacks them. He loves thick thighs and I will die on this hill

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

This man has a BREEDING KINK OKAY!!! He loves to cum inside you, fucking deep into you and feeling his cum fill you up. He loves watching it slowly dripping out, so he can finger it back in. If that’s not your thing I think the next best place would be on your stomach, watching your face as he lets go, seeing the way he marks you up. He loves your little tummy, how it moves as he ruts into you, so he loves it when you let him cum all over it.

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

I only call this a dirty secret because he would never tell anyone about this after the last time it happened and he got fired. He wants to fuck you in the fire engine SO BAD. He can’t help but think of the way you would look as he fucked into you quickly, trying not to get caught with your dress up around your waist. He knows it’s not gonna happen, he’d never hear the end of it from anyone in his life if it did, but god he wants to so bad.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

Girl have we watched the same show?? This man FUCKS!!! We all know (and love) Buck 1.0, and we know he knows what to do. Buck 3.0 might mean him changing into, well, not a sex addict, but that doesn’t mean he forgot his training (🫡). I think he understands that every woman is different, and while he might not get it exactly right the first time, he’s a fast and eager learner, watching what exactly makes you squirm and moan the most for him.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

Canonically, Buck LOVES when you ride him, and I agree. He loves to watch you move yourself on him, able to grab at your thighs, and your hips, and your chest. He also loves to move you on him, squeezing your hips tightly as he sets the pace if you start getting tired or if he just feels like it.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

I mean, he’s Buck, he’s truly a golden retriever of a man and cannot stay serious for long. I think he’s a bit of a mix, he can be serious in the moment, but at the end of the day, he’s still Buck, and Buck is silly goofy.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

He keeps it nicely trimmed, carpets match the drapes. In terms of his partner, he really doesn’t give a fuck. He’s seen it all and could not care less as long as he feels the way you wrap around him so perfectly.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

Buck 3.0 is a man of TASTE, but that being said, I think he only really pulls out the romance during special occasions. Most of the time this man wants to freak nasty, but sometimes when he’s tired, or just feels especially in cuddly/clingy, he’ll be more romantic.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

He does it pretty often, of course not when he has the option to fuck you instead (and you’re willing, of course), but if you’re not with him and he needs a quick release, he getting right to it.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

Breeding: I will scream this till the day that I die, this man wants a family more than anything. Whenever he’s inside of you, he can’t help but think about how pretty you’d look with your belly all round with his babies.

Praise: Look at this pathetic little guy, he needs to be praised, he thrives on it. He loves to hear how good he feels, how good he’s making you feel. This goes both ways. He’s in your ear immediately telling you how good you feel, how well you’re taking him, how pretty you look.

Spanking: HEAR ME OUT!! While I’m not sure he would actually bend you over his knee (but honestly the more I think about it he might) he would LOVE to give your ass a nice little swat as you’re riding him. He loves the sound it makes, and the sound you make because you’re not expecting it. I don’t think he’d ever do it hard enough to hurt too much, but I think enough to make your ass a little red would definitely be something he could get behind (lol).

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

He doesn’t have a ring cutter in the kitchen for nothing<3

I think he likes to have sex at home the most, on the bed, on the couch, on the kitchen counter. You name it, he wants to fuck you there. His favourite is the counter because he loves seeing you being so domestic in the kitchen. Making dinner, cleaning up, whatever, he wants you right then and there and cannot wait. He’ll come up behind you, wrapping his arms around you as he kisses your neck before slowly turning you around to face him and lift you onto the counter to have his way with you.

While he’s moved on from having sex in public places that could (will) get him fired, he’s still into it, but in less obvious places. If y’all are in his car and you’re looking a little too good in his passenger seat, he loves an empty parking lot quickie. Front seat, back seat, whatever you want, he’d be pulling you onto him as soon as he puts the jeep in park.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

Girl ANYTHING gets him going, it would take one look, one touch, one word and this man would be ready to go. I think what really gets him going though is seeing you with kids or getting along so well with the 118. This man truly just wants a silly little family and someone that can get along with the 118fam, so seeing you like that has him making up a stupid excuse to leave a little early so he can take you home and have his hands all over you.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

Like I said before, I don’t think he would do anything to hurt you too much, other than the occasional light spanking or biting. He would also not be into any kind of age play or pet play, he’s pro kink but it’s just not for him.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

This man is a giver and I stand by this. Dear god he loves nothing more than having you spread open for him, hands tangled in his hair as he makes himself at home between your thighs. He loves having his hands gripping your thick thighs, feeling them on either side of his head. When you start to get squirmy from the overstimulation he’ll place a large hand over your lower stomach, holding you still as he pushes you over the edge again.

With all that said, he will definitely not say no to getting head. He loves seeing you look up at him while you’re on your knees, trying to take all of him. He’ll keep a hand in your hair, pulling it softly every now and then, and he can’t help but moan and whine as he gets closer and closer, eventually cumming down your throat as he squeezes his eyes shut.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

It depends on the day, but most of the time he likes it rough and fast. He loves a good quickie, meaning it kinda has to be more fast paced and rough, and he’s pretty easy to get riled up, so when you drop any sort of hint, he’s on you immediately and ready. On other days where he’s feeling extra clingy and lovey, he’ll be more of a slow and sensual guy, but I think for the most part he loves to fuck you deep and rough.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

Like I said, he loves a good quickie. A lot of the time he craves a quickie before work, needing to feel you before his long shift. I think they happen pretty often, but he’d much rather take his time with you, using his fingers and mouth before he fucks you.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

As long as there’s clear communication he’s down to try pretty much anything, he’ll do anything to make you happy (within reason). I think he’s also a risk taker (also within reason, he has to think about not getting fired again, of course). Buck 1.0 is still inside him somewhere when it comes to sex so he definitely loves a little risk, but he’s grown enough to know where the line is.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

While he would love to go as many rounds as possible, I think it would realistically be 2-3, lasting about 10-15 minutes each round. I think he would be the type to like having some time between rounds, tension still high as you talk and lay around before he's back on you again.

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

Once again, he doesn’t have a ring cutter in his kitchen for nothing<3

He likes them, he definitely owns a few toys of his own. Vibrators, cock rings, some handcuffs or restraints, he’s very open to anything that increases y’alls pleasure.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

He does it sometimes not really meaning to, like he does something and you’re like….dear god…and maybe he doesn’t notice the first time but the second time he does and WILL keep going until you snap. He loves the way you get all squirmy and whiny and desperate for him, knowing you want him as much as he wants you.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

So vocal!!!! Literally that meme thats like “y’all afraid to make noise in the bedroom?? i be in my girls ear like…” He loves dirty talk (on both ends) and he can’t help but let out low moans when you’re clenching around him. He also loves hearing your breathless whimpers, making him feel like he’s doing a good job, and encouraging him to pull more sounds from your lips.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

If he was in a relationship during the whole sperm donor thing, it would be the longest few weeks for both of y’all. I imagine the first time he has an appointment, you make sure you’re waiting for him in a cute little matching set, knowing how excited he was to finally be buried inside you again, hearing you whine as he fills you up. He’s so frustrated when his appointment doesn’t work out that he doesn’t let you know how it went, instead being unpleasantly surprised when he sees you sprawled out on his bed when you get home and unable to do anything about it. He wants nothing more than to rip your pretty little set off your body and run his hands up and down your soft curves, but he can’t, and it’s torture. You apologize (but he will hear none of it because it was a lovely surprise, just shitty circumstances), and instead you change into an oversized shirt and sweatpants to enjoy a completely normal (and not sexual at all) night on the couch.

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

8 inches, thick, no complaints <3

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

HIGH!!! This man is thinking about sex 24/7, and if he could, his hands would be on you at all times.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

Most of the time I think he stays up for a while, just hanging out and talking to you. But if he comes home after a long shift he’s fucking GONE in 5 minutes tops.

notes: likes/comments/reblogs would be much appreciated if you liked this<33

click here for my masterlist!

click here to be added to my taglist!

click here to read my request rules!

[minkdelovely]

love and power

✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧     ✧     ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧

chapter eight

“i want everything i asked for.”

Alastor x Fem!Reader ; MDNI 18+ ; [y/n] used sparingly ; Alias in Hell is Sylvie

tags/warnings: ‘fuck it, do him scared!’ or whatever the saying is, no plot cuz y’all have had enough of that, pheromones are putting in work cuz you have heart eyes, y’all are touch-starved and pent up, half-transformation demon alastor (i hope that makes sense lol), implied demon alastor, little bit of angst or even hurt/comfort at the end? 🥲 smut: clothes ripping, scratching, oral sex (fem receiving), fingering, slight degradation & praise kink dynamics, blood play & biting, handjob, orgasm denial, cream pie

word count: 6.6k *maniacal laughter*

author’s note: it wouldn’t be right to start this off without a formal apology for the cliffhanger and then, subsequently, the publishing delay 🥲✨ this ended up being more of a labor of love than i had expected; i just seemed to have such bad luck, this week of all weeks. thank you for your patience, and i hope this makes up for it! @hazelfoureyes one of these days i’ll have some more for you, but until then darling, you ever so kindly ‘asked’ me for smut so… 💅🏻💖

prelude ; chapter one ; chapter two ; chapter three ; chapter four ; chapter five ; chapter six ; chapter seven ; chapter eight ; chapter nine ; chapter ten: part one ; chapter ten: part two

✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧     ✧     ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧

Alastor meant for it to be chaste, really he did. And while he had desperately hoped for acceptance, the ardor with which you returned the kiss was unexpected. The grip of your hands around his wrists was fierce, pulling him in; fingers like sticky fibers against the patch of bare skin nestled between his gloves and the cuff of his shirt. 

So you were hungry, too… He couldn’t help but smile against your mouth at the thought. 

Finally, his luck was turning around.

✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧

When you offered your help to Alastor, a kiss was the last thing you ever expected. 

Actually, you had been fully prepared for him to hurt you somehow, whether it was his intention or not. He had gotten upset so quickly, you assumed it must have been residual animosity from the meeting with Valentino that he could no longer contain. The more you thought about it, you truly understood how degraded he must have been by the whole affair, filling you with a guilt you worried might never go away. He needed a victory.

So offering your help was the least you could do.

But you never could have imagined the way he took your face in his strong hands, holding you with such care despite the intensity roiling off him in his half-formed demonic state. The strain on his face as he struggled to compose himself, his eyes switching back from black with red dials to that familiar searing red. The storming hunger you saw in them, half-lidded, as he closed the gap between you…

Your mind was practically rendered blank, running on instinct; the warm ache throbbing between your hips quickly taking up any remaining space that was left.

His mouth was softer than you expected but his press against you was firm and wickedly practiced. You felt him smile against you and for a moment you forgot to breathe, the resulting gasp being the perfect opportunity for Alastor’s tongue to snake into your mouth. If your eyes hadn’t already been closed, they would have rolled to the back of your head. His tongue was soft and big and hot, his movements steady and filled with purpose; not a drop of wasted effort. You could only hope to keep up…

It was such arduous work keeping your hands at his wrists, floored by the intense desire you had to reach out and touch him. But you didn’t know your limits here. He was still riled up — if anything, you had heard his antlers grow — and you didn’t want to make any wrong moves.

So you put all your longing into the grip of your fingers and mouth, your mind wandering on the feeling of him. Large, elegant hands cupping your face like glass. His body looming over you, offering shelter you were more than willing to accept. His mouth so hot against yours it would leave you feeling cold once it was gone. And he smelled so good this close, smoky and verdant like a bonfire on a crisp autumn night. 

Your thighs rubbed together from the pulse radiating there, and he let out a small groan against your mouth as your nails absently dug into the skin of his wrists. The sound of him simultaneously made your legs weak and fanned the flame between them. His voice had always been nice — he didn’t build a career for himself on the radio for nothing — but you felt a growing fear at the aspect of never hearing something like that again after he was sated; knowing that no matter what it would haunt you for eternity. 

I really am so fucked…

He was pecking now, his breath and teeth and tongue ghosting over your swollen mouth and face as he feverishly placed multiple at a time. You wanted to reciprocate so badly, whether with your lips or hands, but it was clear he needed to ravish you first so you stayed put in a shocking exhibit of will-power. But when you felt the tug of his teeth against the corner of your jaw you couldn’t stop the shaky moan that escaped you, not even noticing how your hips rolled on nothing but air.

That’s all it took. 

Alastor pulled away and gave a quick kiss to your hands before dropping them to take up the torn fabric of your collar. He gave it a sharp pull, tearing your dress straight through to the waist; the sound ringing out in the quiet of your room with the promise of what’s to come. You were too stunned by the suddenness of the action, but the look on your face must have really been something if the expression you were seeing on his was any indication — ravenous and wild. 

Your chest heaved with quickening breath, heartbeat kicking and head empty as you felt all the blood in your body rushing down. Too overwhelmed by the intensity of it all, you dared to bury your face in his chest, grateful to be just tall enough to reach. Mortifying as it was, it was all you could think to do. 

Though safety wasn’t the only thing you found, pressing in so close to him like this, your throat going dry at the feeling of his arousal against you. No amount of time or experience could have prepared you for this, for him. You were beginning to think that there would be nothing left once he was through with you.

Just need a minute…

Mercifully, he let you. Even going so far as to cradle you against him, cupping the back of your head with his left hand. You relaxed into him, a hot puff of air leaving your mouth to soak into the fabric of his clothes. Alastor’s pleased hum in response vibrated against your face, and you brought your hands up to grip the lapels of his coat for fear of crumbling at his feet.

As you steeled yourself, he didn’t desist from his poking and prodding at your exposed back with his free hand. It disappeared briefly, followed by the faint sound of something falling to the carpet before the air was ripped from your lungs at the touch of his hot, bare skin against yours. You whined into his chest as your back arched against his palm, your fingers nearly ripping through his coat with the force of your grip, earning a gruff and sinister chuckle from him. Being able to bask in the feeling of the rumble in his chest against you was a lovely consolation, though. And just under that… his heartbeat. 

His hand against your back regained your attention then, scratching and massaging at its leisure; nails tracing indistinguishable shapes along your skin. Traveling up and down your spine at first, then your shoulders and, finally, the back of your neck where he paused. 

His message read loud and clear: time was up. 

Alastor pulled you away from him with a gentle firmness, managing to handle you delicately despite his clear desire for haste. You could see it burning in his eyes with no intent to extinguish any time soon. He was so mystifying like this, you couldn’t help but drink him in. Stately, powerful… beautiful. It felt impossible now to have ever been afraid of him in this state of half-transformation. He didn’t seem to mind the admiration, soft smile and lust-heavy eyes radiating with ego.

His antlers look so handsome when they’re branched out like this…

“Shouldn’t you have offered to take my coat by now? I’m your guest, aren’t I?” he teased as he swiped your dumbstruck mouth with the pad of his thumb. The filter dipped in and out over his quiet, low tone of voice, sending a fresh wave of heat to your core and cheeks as you fought the urge to nuzzle your face against his bare hand. How had he already reduced you to this? “But I suppose I haven’t been well-mannered myself. Just look at what’s become of your dress.”

His face was smug as he played with the decimated fabric, fingers dancing across your exposed neck and shoulders before pulling down the long sleeves. They had been the glue, apparently, your dress falling past your hips with ease and into a heap on the floor in near silence. Goosebumps pricked your skin as you stood before him in your underwear, already feeling naked as he took you in. You noticed him focus in on your shoulder and neck, the draw of his eyebrows confirming your earlier suspicion that he had left a bruise.

“It’s fine, it didn’t hurt,” you lied self-consciously, unable to keep the nerves out of your voice. It sounded like an apology. He hadn’t meant it and in the grand scheme of things was a bruise really so bad? It would be gone before you knew it.

He didn’t seem convinced, a sound of disapproval coming from behind his closed lips before a smile took its place. “Hmm… if you say so. Perhaps a kiss to make it better?”

Alastor wasted no time leaning down to place his mouth there, and you sighed as the heat of his wide, wet tongue swiped over it before he closed his lips with a small smack. As he nuzzled in — kissing, licking, sucking, nipping — your shaky fingers took to the task of unbuttoning his coat as he had suggested. The action earning you a growl and a bite, not yet enough to break the skin but taking your breath away all the same; the fire in your belly now flickering up into your chest.

Once the coat was loose you ran your hands under it, starting near his waist to travel up his chest until you reached his broad shoulders. Was he the one who was so hot, or was it you? It was impossible to tell. You used the top of your hands to start working the coat off of him, and he paused from his effort at your neck to assist with removing his arms from it before tossing it off to the side — his remaining glove along with it. You caught sight of the saliva glistening around his mouth and chin before he resumed his station and didn’t even try to hold back the soft moan that escaped you.

What was the point?

With a snarl — that was the closest thing you could think to call it — his hands hooked behind your knees and hiked you up, your legs instinctively wrapping around him for purchase as you gasped. Alastor’s mouth found yours again and you held his face to keep steady as you hunched over him, tears forming at the corner of your closed eyes from the relief of being able to touch him this time.

This kiss wasn’t as poised as the first had been. It was hurried and open-mouthed, messy and deep. Not enough, not enough, not enough. You broke away this time, seizing your opportunity to explore his face with your lips as he had yours. His claws bit into the flesh of your ass as your mouth latched onto his neck, sucking at the pulse you found there. The resulting buck of your hips from the action and the moan he let out only pulling another from both of you.

You didn’t even notice that he had been walking until you were suddenly tossed onto the bed, his body immediately caging you in beneath him. You hooked your legs around him as he ground into you, your cry of pleasure from the friction echoing off the walls. He did it again and you whined, squirming, his hands on either side of your head as he leered down; red eyes glowing with satisfaction.

✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧

Alastor took a moment to take in the sight before him, feeling his eyes glitch as he roamed over your flushed face, but made quick work of grabbing it with one hand to pucker your mouth before returning to explore it with his tongue.

It surprised him how much he was enjoying this; kissing you with abandon, somehow never scratching the incessant itch despite his efforts. He captured your bottom lip with his teeth, resiliently managing not to bite straight through it as you moaned into his mouth.

“Alastor…!” 

His name was a song on your breath, scorching down from his ears to his cock, all of which reacted with a twitch.

One string loose. 

How many more would he need to cut before you went slack?

Who had bound you up like this in the first place? It certainly hadn’t been him. On the contrary, he was so eager to see you torn open and bare, stripped of all the little secrets tangled like knots on your tether to him. Always keeping your guard up around him wasn’t only irritating… it was selfish. And there was only one of you here allowed that luxury. 

Still, this was quite the consolation prize, seeing you surrender to him so easily. He had barely gotten started and you were already making such a pretty face for him; a new favorite, even. Your little pout that normally inspired vexation looked sweet like this, swollen with his kisses. It was an image he would soon not forget, being so much better than what he had imagined.

Your scent had truly blossomed now, dizzying him with the potency of its floral, nutty musk; just a hint of sweetness underneath. It complimented his own smoky, green, and bitter scent so well. But Alastor was ready to make his next new discovery, his hips finally lifting away from you as he gave you a final peck on the mouth.

“Hmmm, delicious as your mouth is, there’s another place I’m quite eager to kiss.” He could feel the wickedness on his face as he said it, unable to contain the static that flared around him as you breathed out a curse, body trembling.

Alastor made a slow descent, teasing you with licks and bites and kisses to draw out as many moans and whimpers as he could from you. Such music you made for him. Only for him. It was a good thing he had already resolved to avoid sleep as much as he could in the future; he wouldn’t get much anyway with the sounds you made ringing in his head like church bells.

He could see the damp soaked into your underwear before he even touched them, already intoxicated by the smell and heat wafting off your core. He’d have to be careful here… not an easy task, but he’d manage. The self-advised warning did little to stop him from tearing the garment in half with ease, enjoying the wide-eyed look you gave him as you quickly propped up on your elbows from the sound.

“I’d apologize for frightening you, but I’m afraid I wouldn’t mean it,” he said, holding your gaze as he palmed your bare sex, thrilled by how wet you already were. You were having such a hard time keeping your composure, serving only to egg him on. He hummed and continued, almost surprised by the words that came out of his mouth, “You don’t seem to mind, though… how lewd.”

Your head fell back with a loud whine, arms giving out so that you were flat on your back again; face scarlet as his fingers moved against you, collecting your arousal. His dick throbbed against him at the sight, leaking onto his skin and clothes. He couldn’t help the hiss that spilled from between his teeth when he tested you with his middle finger, tight as you were wet.

“Oh my… it’s been a while for you too, hm? I’m honored,” he cooed, relishing the way you whimpered and clenched at his words. “I do worry how you’ll fare… Contrary to the restraint I’ve shown so far, I must warn you… I don’t have the capacity for gentleness today.”

Your eyes shot open with shock, and with that he removed his finger and brought it up, putting the entirety of it in his mouth to suck you off as you watched. His eyes closed in pleasure, groaning as his tongue lapped up every bit of you, savoring every second. Clean and tart… like a ripe summer cherry. He couldn’t stop the bit of drool that escaped the corner of his mouth, the rush of saliva incensed by your taste coming on too quickly to swallow it all.

Alastor was breathing hard through his nose, a fresh wave of hunger — he wasn’t sure what else to call it — trembling through him with a fierce burning need. His smile and voice were sharp, static fraying as he spoke, “Hmmm… My imagination wasn’t even close. Aiming to please, dear?”

✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧

His fascination with licking you off him would be your second-death. Not only that, but you hadn’t expected him to say any of the obscene things that were spilling from his mouth, let alone the way you were responding to them. You had been subject to dirty talk before and enjoyed it (if done well), but… there was just something about it all coming from Alastor that set your veins on fire.

“Alastor, please, it’s embarrassing,” you pleaded through gasps, watching through half-open eyes as he licked away at his hand. You felt as if you had a fever, your face was so hot, hair already beginning to stick to your forehead with sweat.

As if falling on deaf ears, he merely proceeded to give a sharp tug to his bowtie, removing it in one go before unbuttoning his shirt. Something about the harsh way he pulled his shirt from the belted waist of his pants made you dizzy, but you felt a scream die in your throat watching the way his shoulders and chest moved as he freed his arms, with just the slightest flex of his abdomen; your eyes unable to resist following the trail of hair below his navel that disappeared under his belt.

You had made peace with your budding attraction to him — it was easier that way, considering your near-constant state of proximity — but this felt like being tossed directly into the fire.

Burning at the stake.

As he towered over you, you took in the large, pink scar lacerated across his chest from left shoulder to the right side of his ribcage. There had been mentions of the battle against Adam and his Exorcists within the group; how terrifying it had been, how brave everyone was. The loss of their friend Sir Pentious, who had died trying to help protect them against Adam. That was when the conversation normally tapered off, the grief still too close at his loss, but also because of what led up to it.

From what you understood, Adam had been Alastor’s appointed target to handle. One he was unmatched against, if the scar was any indication. A killing blow he had managed to survive. You hoped the pity you felt wasn’t making its way into your gaze as you looked at him, knowing he’d dislike it. Still… You sat up with hands stretched out, the instinct to touch and comfort him too strong to fight. But he pushed you back down, a shadow coming over his face as he bent over you. 

“Patience, sweetheart. I still owe you a kiss.”

You didn’t have time to process the dismissal before he raked his nails on your skin as he dipped down, your back arching up to meet them as you breathed through the small sting of pain. A splash of sobriety hit you as you felt the heat of his breath hovering over your cunt, your stomach tight as he moved closer, a wanton cry as he finally lapped at you with his tongue; a slow, wide, firm sweep from hole to clit. Sealed with a kiss, as promised.

You shuddered and gripped the duvet as if your life depended on it. The image of him nestled between your legs making your brain short-circuit. His eyes were shrouded with a predation that should have terrified you. So why did it thrill you instead?

 “Oh my god…”

That wicked grin of his…

“Last I checked, Hell is the absence of God. Let’s try again, shall we?” 

He hiked your legs over his shoulders, looped his arms around to grab the top of your thighs, and pulled you to his mouth. You saw white as he didn’t hesitate in setting a voracious pace, his tongue dipped into you — long and thick — as his nose pushed against your clit with every open-and-close of his mouth. His chin providing a pleasant hardness that nearly knocked the wind out of you.

He was incessant. 

Sucking, prodding, licking, and swallowing; a starving man who may never eat or drink again. Your hands found purchase on his antlers, a bit smaller now but still looming, earning a moan of approval into your heat that blossomed in your chest. The room was filled with the sound of wet smacks and a harmony of throaty groans from him; keening, breathy moans from you. Both unabashed.

In between breathing his name, words were tumbling from your mouth that you couldn’t register, too lost in the feeling of him on you. Not just your pussy, but your legs, too. His hands gripping your thighs so fiercely as your hips rolled against his face that you hoped for bruises. A keepsake. It was impossible to know if this would ever happen again.

You hadn’t even realized you were slipping away from yourself until he pulled back with a sharp gasp, finally coming up for air, jerking his antlers from your hands. The lower half of his face shimmered with a blend of your arousal and his spit, the sclera of his eyes gone black, dials taking the shape of his red irises. Again, your arms reached out, shaking from the effort as you tried to catch your breath. 

“Kiss…,” you barely managed to say, dizzied as you were.

Alastor obliged, climbing up to your open hands as you pulled him down to you, unable to find the strength to meet him halfway. He flinched as you ran your tongue over his left cheek, licking up some of the mess there as he wiped at the other side with the back of his hand. The taste of your combined fluids sent a jolt of pleasure through you and you moaned through the sloppy, open-mouthed kiss that followed. The laugh that escaped him was sinister but sent another wave of warmth through you all the same.

He rewarded you with a finger, followed quickly by another. And before you knew it, another. Pumping in and out of you with a delicious stretch and a maddeningly consistent pace before they curled, teasing your spongy core as his thumb circled your clit at the switch; the sudden onset of your orgasm had your body trembling under his touch.

“Ohh… mm, fuck…! Hmmmnn… Ah—! Alasto—ahh!”

“I know, sweetheart, I know.” His voice was rough but soothing. A crackle of static melded into your moans and the wet sounds of your cunt, and he gave his head a violent shake as if to clear it. There was nothing but a growling need when he spoke next. “I’ve got you, don’t fight it. Let me see how pretty that sullen face of yours looks when you cum…!”

It was all too much. Just the intensity of his eyes on yours boxed in between your hands holding his face could have sent you over the edge. But his words again, that pet name… 

The tether snapped so viciously you were fairly certain you passed out for a moment, your vision gone black as you screamed. Only to be brought back to consciousness by Alastor’s fingers slowly riding the wave of your orgasm, no longer stroking with purpose — you were clenched around him so tightly his previous pace would have probably injured you both — but with a languid solace. Graciously accepting every roll of your hips into his hand as you moaned his name and gasped for breath.

✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧

God, it was so fucking satisfying to see your face twisted up, eyebrows knit and your pouty lips salaciously framing your open mouth as you cried out for him. Another perfectly shattered expectation, much like the rest of this experience had been. He didn’t even mind that your eyes were shut. The consolation being the glimpse he caught of them rolling to the back of your head before they were out of sight. That, and, this would only be your first. He was determined to get at least one more out of you before this was over, truly unsure how much you could handle.

He was surprising even himself, speaking to you in the manner he was. He enjoyed a good tease, but he couldn’t recall going to this extent before. Perhaps it was a result of the pheromones, but he simply couldn’t seem to help it. The reactions it was pulling from you were too exhilarating to deny himself… and by extension, you.

His static was filling the air, buzzing with the energy of a lightning storm as he sucked you off his fingers once more with a snarl; his free hand sloppily undoing his belt before giving it a freeing tug, desperately hard erection weeping slightly at the bit of alleviation. As the realization that he was preparing to enter you sunk in another ripple of goosebumps pinpricked his skin, causing him to bite down on the inside of his lip from the sensation.

The taste of his own blood came with inspiration.

Alastor tucked back some of your damp hair before bringing his face down to meet yours, swiping at your lips with his blood-coated tongue. Testing the waters. Your eyebrows drew together and you stretched underneath him, as if waking from a night’s sleep, before blinking your eyes open. He watched as your tongue responded with a quick prod of what he had left there, and felt his smile grow when you let out a hum of content.

He would never tire of being right.

“I thought you might like that, my little killer… Have some more,” he whispered against you. Giving your lips another rough lick before taking your mouth again, groaning into each other as your tongue soothed his still-bleeding lip.

✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧

Something about this kiss was different.

There was a fierceness this time that hadn’t been there before, no doubt spurred on by the blood pooling in Alastor’s mouth. It had been shocking to taste at first but then… you found that it wasn’t too bad. Diluted with saliva, it was almost sweet, and you relished the way he enjoyed your tasting of it.

Your hands traveled up to the back of his head, gently scratching the prickly velvet of his undercut with one while the other pulled at the hair on his crown. His hiss into your mouth made you moan with another jump of your hips, and you felt him shift over you then; vaguely aware of the sound of him unceremoniously tugging down his pants before he took your hand from his crown and brought it between you.

The gasp that escaped you was sharp, your hand instinctively wrapping around his length as he guided you through stroking him. He was so hard, wet, and heavy, burning to the touch, but distant alarms were ringing about your ability to take him all. It scared you how much you wished to try.

His moan of relief was another keepsake, the sound of it so soft and pleading in your ear that you nearly sobbed from your desire. You couldn’t help but wonder what his face looked like, making a sound like that, and found yourself jealous of the skin of your neck he was hiding in. You stayed like this for a moment, his hand leaving you to work on its own as he cradled the opposite side of your head to lick and kiss your neck between gasps and moans. With a final nip to your skin Alastor pulled back, the mattress dipping as he put all of his weight onto his forearm to the right of your head as he adjusted himself.

“Don’t close your eyes,” was all he said before pressing into you, the tip of his cock already threatening to overwhelm you as it teased your entrance. 

It was not an easy task, your eyebrows drawing together in such a way that it nearly blurred your vision. You whined between closed lips, doing your best to breathe through the sweet stretch of him finally entering you. Despite his direction, he didn’t seem to be doing much better; sweat beading on his forehead over furrowed brows, kiss-swollen mouth open with panting breaths. Flushed cheeks. Even in the state he had reduced you to, you were trying to sear the image of his lust-strained face into your psyche.

He was rocking his hips slowly, allowing you to adjust to him with each little thrust as your arousal coated him, easing his advance; breathy moans collecting between you in puffs of steam, joining the two of you together in all the places you weren’t touching. 

All the while, your eyes were locked on each other. Had anyone else ever seen his the way they were now and found them beautiful instead of horrifying? You moaned as you stared at him; taking in his large, elegant antlers and sweat-damp hair, reminding you of the bedhead you had seen the other morning. His handsome and sinister face. He could easily tear you to shreds — and in a certain way, he was — but you were overwhelmed at the amount of care he had shown you so far, even with his earlier warning. 

His thrusts were building in sharpness, parting you with a tantalizing push-and-pull until he finally bottomed out with a growl. You cried out from the fullness he gave you, already twitching around him despite his stillness as he gave you both a moment to try and catch your breath. 

Alastor peppered your face with kisses and licks as you relaxed into him, testing you with a shallow thrust that had you biting down on your lip. Another. Another. Another. Until your mouth was hanging open, your hands traveling up to hold onto his triceps in your need for stability and to keep him close. Suddenly you felt him leave you completely, not even able to process the emptiness before he slammed back into you with a harsh grunt that made you squeal; writhing as he pressed up into your cervix.

He must have really enjoyed that, because he did it again. And again. And again. Settling into an excruciatingly blissful pace, his hard length massaging knots out of your body you didn’t know where there. Your legs instinctively hooked around him, nails digging into the flesh of his arms as you gasped and whined.

“So — ah..! Good… Alastorrr…!”

“Fuck!” he hissed between gritted teeth as your hips bucked, brows knit tight as he shook his head as if to clear a fog. 

You didn’t know he was actually trying to keep something at bay, the additional inch of growth in his antlers lost on you in your current state.

✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧

Alastor’s hips stuttered for a moment before muscle memory guided him back to rhythm, desperate to regain the ecstasy that was torn from him. It had been a close call, but he managed to keep the switch from happening. Though the monster inside was still there, clawing at him just below the surface. 

He felt as your hands moved from their place on his triceps (which he had quite enjoyed) to settle on his chest, your fingers delicately tracing his scar. The line wasn’t steady though, perforated by the impact of his thrusts, which you were handling with a surprising welcomeness. 

It was almost…

There it was again, lying in wait; that ravenous, goading shadow roiling inside of him.

Take the risk…

Could he, though? Composing himself was practically second-nature, after all…

Say it!

Alastor exhaled, somewhere between a growl and a sigh. “You’re doing so well, sweetheart.” He allowed himself to relish the sound of your cry and the blissed out look on your face, which in turn provided a moment to steel himself before continuing, “I didn’t think you’d be this greedy.”

“Fuuuck…! Alast — oh my god…!”

A fresh wave of your arousal flooded over him as you desperately rolled your hips to meet him, but the intention had been to make you climax — and judging by the way you were spasming around him, you were close. Not drive him to his own at the sight of your glowing eyes, just as they had that day in the alley.

He had miscalculated.

With an agonizing force of will he pulled out of you, harsh breaths straining his lungs as he got off the bed to hastily remove his pants and shoes. He groaned through the ripple of adrenaline that was tearing through him, heartbeat pounding in his ears like a drum, the feeling of it causing his hair to stand on edge. Fuck. He wouldn’t be able to hold it off… not this time.

“What’s wrong?” Despite the question, your voice was still so thick with lust that it made his back hunch over.

It was taking all he had not to wrap his arms around himself in what he knew would be a useless attempt at containment. Even breathing was painful. The air saturated with the smell of sweat and sex and Valentino’s goddamn pheromones!

I really am going to kill that son of a bitch!

“Alastor…?”

✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧

Burning at the stake.

It had been a good way to put it.

He had been burning you alive before dousing you with ice.

What had gotten into him? What had gotten into you? No one had ever said something like that to you before and received anything but a slap in the face. Greedy… The word made your heart stutter, some of the blood from the lower half of your body traveling back up to your face. Was it true? 

Embarrassment was beginning to sober you up. Had you gone too far? It seemed strange that you had, considering the words came from his mouth and not yours. Fuck, all of this had started because of him. How else had he wanted you to react? Or was he ashamed of himself? 

Was he regretting this already? 

“What’s wrong?”

You watched as his back arched up like a spooked cat, the force of his breathing revealing the ribs and notches of spine under the skin. He looked like he was in pain… Maybe the scar on his chest wasn’t as healed as it seemed? You climbed off the bed and made a timid approach.

“Alastor…?” 

He flinched at the touch of your hand with a hiss, the shock of his reaction making you trip over yourself and fall back onto the bed. He kept his back to you when he spoke next, the absence of his filter making you shiver in pleasure and worry.

“You remember what I told you earlier, yes?”

I don’t have the capacity for gentleness today.

How could you not remember that? 

“I do,” you answered, just above a whisper.

He straightened himself then, still turned away from you and managing to look regal despite his trembling. “I need you on all fours… and you must promise not to turn around. Do you understand?”

It was a question that didn’t leave room for any response other than yes. So you just positioned yourself on the bed, facing your headboard and gathered the pillows there underneath you for support. You had just finished settling when you felt his weight dip the mattress behind you, heart in your throat as he ran his nails down your spine before slipping his fingers into you.

You both sighed as he pumped you, filling the room with that familiar lewd sound between breaths. Stoking the embers of your stolen orgasm with every drag, until he removed them completely. You whined at his absence, the tightness in your belly teetering somewhere between pleasure and pain as you heard him shudder through stroking himself. His free hand resting now on your hip.

“Don’t get comfortable. If you cum facing away from me I’ll never touch you again.” His voice was tight with effort, the filter over it harsh and pocketed as he adjusted himself behind you, the grip of his hand on your left hip promising to bruise. 

To your shame, the threat alone almost made you, a graceless moan tumbling out from your chest as you barely managed to nod your head in confirmation; your cunt flexing around the words echoing in your mind. The obscene sight of it drew out a sound from Alastor that could only be described as animalistic, earning the plump skin of your hip a few punctures as he thrust into you, bottoming out.

It was a brutal pace, his cock nearly leaving you with every thrust before plunging back in. He still had one hand on your hip while the other grabbed your shoulder, the slapping sound of your skin meeting quickly overpowering the gasps and moans falling from your mouths.

“Haahhh… nnghh…! …fuck!”

“Alastor…”

You felt him twitch inside of you at the sound of this name before he practically shouted, “Again…!”

The blush burned down from your face into your chest, but you complied and whined his name again. And again. Until it seemed to be the only word you knew.

“Ohhh, fuuuck…,” he hissed, followed quickly by a snarl.

You could’ve sworn you heard fabric tearing before a green glow reflected off the lacquered wood of your headboard. Alastor’s huge silhouette taking shape as it intensified; invoking the image of a nightmarish spider more than the deer demon you knew. You closed your eyes and buried your face in the pillows you had gathered, refusing to turn around despite your instinct to do so. And even through the fear, you still felt your orgasm building, the battle to keep it at bay quickly turning against your favor. 

“Alastor… I… I can’t… I—”

The words were stolen as he suddenly bit into your shoulder, his mouth so wide you felt his teeth sink in from shoulder blade to collarbone. You screamed into the pillows as his hips stuttered, until there was a final thrust so deep it would have pained you if it weren’t for your throbbing shoulder. His seed spilled out hot and thick, fueling the aching fullness inside you as he grunted into your flesh; teeth still latched to you as if making a primal claim.

Hot tears fell down your face as he rode out his orgasm behind you, unsure if they were caused by the savage bite to your bruised shoulder or lament over the deprivation of seeing his face. But you had done as you were told, managing not to turn around or climax. The bite he was now nursing with licks and sucks and kisses providing plenty of distraction.

Almost too much…

As he tried to catch his breath, you could feel him shrinking behind you as he pulled out, his slick torso laying flat against your back as he lapped up the blood dribbling from the bite. And in between his kisses that traveled from your shoulder to your tear-stained face, his hands were petting you with such a tenderness it only wrought more tears. 

His soothing whispers of shhh, I know, I’m sorry, I’ve got you, I’m sorry ringing in your ears as he brought you to lie down, cradling you to him as he caressed your face with his hands that inflicted such pain and comfort… protection.

For what seemed like hours, the two of you laid in silence, looking into each other’s eyes as his thumb stroked your cheek. Until finally you buried your face into his chest, hands over his heart.

And slipped into shadow.

✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧     ✧     ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧

ps: phew! we fucking made it y’all… i truly hope it was worth the wait. but i do want to announce here that i will be taking a little break. i know this one was already late, but it kinda took a piece of my soul lmao since we only have two more chapters i need to make sure i have all my ducks lined up to wrap this with a pretty little bow. thank you for your patience and love, i really do appreciate you. and i’ll see you on may 5th 💖

tag list: @fairyv-ice, @wat4r, @midorichoco, @raynerrold, @krak-jj, @tremendoushearttaco, @redfoxwritesstuff, @chibistar45, @kaylopolis, @cutiebimbo, @lousypotatoes, @rfox1998, @cosmic-lavender

[judasofsuburbia]

something something kindergarten teacher! steve who is so tired of going on bad dates. kindergarten teacher! robin who doesn't want him to give up.

“Really? The date went that bad?” Robin asks again. 

“Yes,” Steve drones. “I swear she looked like she’d rather be at the dentist than on a date with me.”

Robin makes a sad face at him. Steve continues to sort the paint jugs and throw out any that have been mixed with other colors. Robin finishes putting toys back into cubbies and sanitizing the fake food. 

“Okay so,” Robin starts. 

Steve immediately holds up a hand. “Don’t say ‘maybe she’s not the one but someone is’. I’m sick of this, Rob. I feel like I’m just better off alone.”

“Not true,” Robin argues. “You’re a catch. You’re attractive and good with kids. You make me laugh so hard my ribs shake. You’re a great listener and you make amazing cocktails. Great helmet of hair. Who wouldn’t want to date that?” 

Steve’s heard it all before. He loves Robin, he does, but it doesn’t seem to matter what she thinks of him because no one in this town wants to make it to date two with him.

He used to be so good at this. Always had a girl on his arm at football games in high school. Always had a date to prom. Always had some girl to make out with at parties. Even when he realized later on in his twenties that he liked boys too, he still couldn’t find one that took his attraction seriously.

Steve Harrington? Like both? Unheard of, apparently. 

Still, Steve didn’t want to start the first day of school on a bad note. “Thanks, Rob. I might need to lick my wounds for a second but I’ll get back on the horse I promise.”

“Good because our marriage pact could be closing soon,” Robin mumbles with a sly smile. 

Steve’s head whips around. “Are you‒”

“I have a ring picked out,” Robin practically squeals. 

Steve does his best to gently set down the paint jugs and rip off his latex gloves before darting across the room to pick Robin up in a twirling hug. He kisses her head repeatedly until she’s groaning, giggling, and shoving him off. 

“Rob, that’s amazing,” Steve breathes. He squeezes her tightly again. 

“You better keep your mouth shut,” Robin warns with a pointed finger. “It’s so hard to surprise Nancy Wheeler but I think I’m finally going to be able to.” 

Steve’s grinning from ear to ear as he mimes zipping his mouth closed. “Secret’s safe with me.”

The alarm on Steve’s phone breaks them out of their little love fest and suddenly the halls are filled with parents, children, and teachers gabbing to high heaven. Robin gives him a salute before crossing over onto her side of the classroom. Technically, there is a foldable partition between the two rooms but it will be a cold day in Hell if Robin and Steve ever actually separate their classrooms. 

Steve goes to stand by his door and greet his new gaggle of students. He high-fives each of them as they walk through the door and points to their assigned cubby and seat.

Fifteen minutes later, he’s looking around the room and sees that two seats are still empty. Dustin and Max Munson. He didn’t see them at parent-teacher night last week but he knows from their file that they’re fraternal twins from a single, widowed dad. He tries to keep an eye out for them but he knows the other kids are getting restless. 

Then he hears, “Oh, Mr. Munson, you’re actually in Steve’s‒sorry, Mr. Harrington’s class. He’s just right across the way.” 

Steve glances across the room and does a double-take. Across the room is the alleged Mr. Munson, this tall, lanky man with curly brown hair that hits his shoulders with a blank bandana tying down the top of his head, big brown eyes, a leather jacket with pins, a white tank top, and coverall sleeves tied at his waist. He’s positively breathtaking. 

Holding either hand are Max and Dustin. A little redhead with a baseball cap, overalls, and a striped shirt. A little brunette curly head with green khaki shorts and a shirt with a dragon on it. Mr. Munson smiles apologetically at Robin and walks across the room to Steve’s. Dustin bolts to his assigned seat and starts talking animatedly to Will Byers who looks a little scared out of his mind but is quickly rescued by Mike Wheeler who is just as excited. Max stays glued to Mr. Munson’s side as he walks up to Steve.

If Steve’s not mistaken, Mr. Munson looks him up and down before speaking. 

“Sorry we’re late,” Mr. Munson says and of course, his voice is pretty too. “This one is a little nervous about being away from her dad.”

Steve draws his eyes away from the strong neck and pale collarbones that poke out from underneath his jacket to the scared girl. He bends down to her level and gives her a soft smile. 

“Are you Max? I’m Mr. Harrington,” Steve says.

Max blinks, inching more and more behind Mr. Munson’s pant leg. 

“School’s kinda scary, huh?” Steve asks. 

Max nods.

“I know I get a little nervous on the first day and I’m the teacher,” Steve admits in a small, dramatic voice. He sees the tiniest sliver of a smile on Max’s face. “I’ve sat you next to Lucas Sinclair,” Steve points to the smiling kid on the other side of the room. Lucas gives a small wave. “He’s a very nice boy and I think he even likes the Bulls,” Steve gestures to Max’s hat. “So, I think you guys will have loads to talk about. We’re gonna have a really fun day, okay? And then you’ll get to tell your dad all about it.”

Max glances timidly around the room again and slowly lets go of her dad’s pant leg. Dustin rushes over and shows Max where her cubby is which detaches her completely. Max sits next to Lucas who does get very excited over her hat. Steve and Mr. Munson watch her relax little by little. 

“Holy sh‒shirt," Mr. Munson coughs and smiles sheepishly. "Wow, uh, you really know how to talk to them. Literally made her a friend within five seconds."

Steve stands and tries to regain composure now that the irresistible dad’s attention is on him. 

“Thanks,” Steve says quietly. “The first day is always a little tricky.”

Mr. Munson holds out his hand and says, “Eddie.”

Steve takes it, feeling a little dizzy over how firm his grip is and the callouses on his hands. “S-Steve. Harrington.”

“I’m sorry we couldn’t make it last week. Last-minute towing emergency for Chief Hopper,” Eddie says, finally dropping Steve’s hand. 

Steve playfully rolls his eyes. “I’ve been telling him for years that he needs to dump that old hunk of junk already. I’m guessing you work for Munson Mechanics?”

Eddie smiles boldly and glances down at his attire. “Yeah, that’s where I get this sick uniform. Very exclusive.”

“I’m jealous,” Steve laughs nervously, trying desperately to keep his eyes on Eddie’s face. But even then, his eyes are so pretty and his smile is so radiant. There’s faint stubble on his upper lip and jaw. Steve wants to run his fingers over it amongst other things.

“Well, I won’t keep you much longer,” Eddie smiles, clapping Steve on his back. “Maybe I’ll get you a free oil change for your trouble.”

“Oh, it’s no trouble‒”

Eddie leans forward a little and squeezes Steve’s shoulder. He whispers, “Or maybe I just want to see you when there are not twenty five-year-olds staring at me.”

From this proximity, Steve can smell his cologne and lingering car oil. He can feel his brain cells dying every second he inhales the intoxicating aroma. Steve breathes shallowly, too aware of the growing blush on his cheeks, and says, “S-sure. I’d like that.”

Eddie smirks and has the audacity to wink before going to each of his kids, ruffling their hair, and kissing them goodbye with a big wet smack on their cheeks. He passes by Steve again and murmurs, “I won’t say goodbye to you like that. Not yet, at least. Good luck with my little gremlins” before walking out the door. 

Steve hears the clunk of his boots echoing down the hall and each step makes his heart beat louder against his ribs.

He dares to look at Robin across the room who is staring at him with a smug grin on her face. She mimics getting on a horse and does a little lasso with her hand. 

Steve adjusts his glasses, clears his throat, and says in his best teacher voice, “Alright friends, who’s ready to start kindergarten?” 

EDIT 2/8: READ THE FULL FIC HERE 🤠